Dog Collar Chaos

by Adrienne Giordano

  "Who posted that message about the protest? Was it Kandi?"

  "I can't say."

  Fine. Another one who thought she could push around Joe Rizzo's kid. Lucie rose from the table. "Then we'll head back to my shop, where a horde of reporters begged me for a statement as I was leaving. But in the spirit of partnership—something certainly not shown to Coco Barknell—I decided not to comment until I spoke to someone at Foo-Foo. You're not willing to help me, so I'll just round up a couple of reporters and drop well-placed tidbits about Buzzy stealing our designs." Lucie snapped her fingers. "And, oh, right, you trying to discredit us with a damned protest. With all the media attention surrounding Buzzy's death, I'm sure the press will eat that drama right up. I mean, Buzzy a fraud? An intellectual property thief? Who'd have guessed that?"

  On a roll now, all that stirred up anger soaring, she whipped around, heading for the door.

  "Lucie! Wait."

  Ah. Better.

  Lucie paused. "You need to help me understand."

  Reece screwed her face into pinched misery.

  She thought she was upset? Puh-lease. "Start talking, Reece."

  "Don't go to the press. I'm begging you. Things are insane at the office. Lorraine is insane. Every time she walks into the building the entire staff tries to hide. It's like an episode of Survivor."

  Now they were blaming Lorraine? "Her sister died. She's grieving. Maybe you guys could give her some slack."

  "Yes, but we're running a business and Lorraine is walking around barking orders at us. Nobody knows what to do. The executives try to keep her out of the building, but she's Buzzy's sister. How do they kick her out?"

  A tough one indeed. "I stopped at the house the other day. She must be under a tremendous amount of stress."

  "Sure, but you're being generous making excuses for her. She was the one who told Kandi to schedule that damned protest."

  "Lorraine wanted it? Why?"

  "I have no idea. She came in yesterday all kinds of crazy. She parked in Buzzy's office and started boxing things up. When I asked if I could help, she went off about Roseanne killing Buzzy and how angry she was. She told me to get a protest going. I think she wants you and Roseanne to feel bad. You know, guilty, about Buzzy."

  "We do feel bad. Nobody deserves that, but Ro is innocent."

  "Lorraine doesn't think so. And since they arrested Ro…" Reece shrugged.

  "As if no other people in Buzzy's life were mad at her? What about her boyfriend?"

  "Which one?"

  Whoopsie. Apparently Buzzy—God rest her soul—was doing the nasty with multiples. "She had more than one?"

  Again, Reece shrugged. "She liked men. Dated a lot. I don't know the details though. You'd have to ask Lorraine."

  Terrific. More suspects to hunt down, but somehow Lucie didn't think Reece would pony up any names. Then again, if there were multiple men in Buzzy's life...

  Ask Lorraine.

  There's an idea. Lorraine had been civil to Lucie when she'd been at the house. She could use her confusion over the protest as an excuse for a meeting and while there, if she got lucky, she'd pump Lorraine for information about Buzzy's boyfriends.

  Lucie had a lead to follow.

  Nothing said tragedy like a pack of jealous lovers.

  Using her successful dog walking/snooping excursion the day before as a barometer, Lucie scored a parking space two blocks over from Buzzy's still-barricaded street. Intending to cut through the yard of the vacant house, she walked one block and turned, but was interrupted by her ringing phone.

  For the love of Pete. Lucie couldn't leave the office for a little reconnoitering without people hunting her down. All this Ro being in jail nonsense was a major PITA.

  Maybe she'd take a stand, for once be irresponsible, and not answer the phone. She considered that option, but with the protest still in play, probably not a wise choice.

  She checked her phone. 312 number. Could be anyone. Might as well answer it. "This is Lucie."

  A short pause ensued and just as she was about to hang up a recording announced a collect call from an inmate at the Cook County jail.

  Ro.

  Holy cannoli. The recording droned on and Lucie bobbed her head. "Come on, come on, put her through already."

  Finally, the magic question was asked. Would she accept the call?

  "Yes," Lucie said. The line clicked. Silence. "Ro? Are you there?"

  "Oh, my God," her BFF said, her voice rising to just shy of drama queen. "I could have taken a nap while they connected this damned call. I should lodge a complaint about my phone time being wasted on subpar service."

  Even locked up, Ro did a great holier-than-thou act. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

  "Nothing. I just...missed you. And Joey got an account set up so I could call cell phones or land lines. He's really good at this, you know."

  Her brother. The corrections expert.

  "He's had practice with my dad. But I don't want to talk about them right now. Gosh, I'm so happy to hear your voice."

  "I know. It's crazy how much I take for granted." Ro let out a little sigh. "Never again, Luce. When I get out of here, I will appreciate every taste of freedom."

  A car stormed down the block with the precision of an Indy racer, the driver managing not to hit the parked bumper to bumper vehicles.

  Relieved at the normalcy—well, kinda—of chatting with Ro, Lucie leaned against a tree in front of the vacant house.

  "I only have a few minutes," Ro said. "There's a line for the phone. And these bitches get mean."

  Oy. Lucie didn't want to think about prisoner improvised weapons. Chair leg nunchuks, toilet paper shivs, spears made from bedposts. All of it scared the daylights out of her. Bad enough Dad liked to share those war stories over dinner conversation.

  "I'm so sorry," Lucie said. "I promise, we're working on getting you out. I'm at Lorraine’s now. Apparently Buzzy had a few boyfriends. I'm looking into that. And the agent? He's a bust. He was at a movie premiere the night of the murder."

  "He could have hired someone."

  "Could have. If this boyfriend thing doesn't pan out, we'll look into that.” So what if the call was being recorded? If the cops weren't already on the agent, they would be now. “Have you talked to Willie? Where are they on the security video from Buzzy's house? Last I heard, detectives were trying to get their hands on the security company's records."

  "Eh," Ro said. "No movement. The cops got a warrant, but the company is in no rush to release the backups. Willie said it's not unusual since this is after the fact."

  Lucie let out a growl. "So, if a life were in danger, they'd release them. But since she's already kicked they won't? Lovely. I'll talk to—"

  Tim.

  Can't say that when being recorded.

  "Luce? You there?"

  "I'm here. I'll get into it and let you know what I find."

  "Thank you."

  The sound of clicking heels drew Lucie's gaze to an extremely pulled-together brunette in a long white coat marching up the walkway of the vacant house. This woman screamed success. And confidence. Who had the spine to wear a white coat in Chicago in the dead of winter? One splash through dirty snow and that coat was toast.

  The brunette paused at the oversized—and crooked—realtor sign shoved into the frozen patch of lawn. She gave it a useless push and shook her head. Lucie studied the photo on the sign, then shifted back to the woman.

  Realtor.

  "Luce?"

  "I'm here. Keep your head up in there. Okay? We'll get you out, I swear to you."

  "I'm okay. I'm in the good wing. And, hey, I'm brushing up on my gin rummy. There's a nightly card game. Cocktails at seven. Black tie required."

  Good old, Ro. Always finding the humor.

  "As soon as we get you out, I'll play you. I'm pretty good at gin rummy, you know."

  "Deal."

  On Ro's end of the line, someone hollered something about losing daylight. "Oh, go slap
yourself," Ro shot back.

  Cripes, maybe she shouldn't be aggravating felons.

  Watch out for the toilet paper shivs.

  "Luce, I have to go before these girls string me up."

  "Don't say that!"

  "I love you, Luce."

  "Love you too. And don't worry. We'll get you out."

  If it kills me, we'll get you out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucie disconnected Ro's call just as the realtor popped the lock box open on the brownstone. She glanced up and... Whoa, wait one second.

  The day before, Lucie had been too preoccupied with sneaking onto Buzzy's street to notice the security camera above the door of the vacant home. Did the back entrance also have one?

  The realtor made quick work of unlocking the door as Lucie strode to the end of the walkway.

  "Excuse me," she called.

  The woman swung back and offered up a welcoming smile. "Yes? Can I help you?"

  You sure can. "I'm Lucie Rizzo. I'm a...private investigator."

  A snort-worthy declaration, no doubt, but not a total lie. This was an investigation and she was a private person.

  "An investigator?"

  The woman's face fell. Just plop. Maybe that private investigator line wasn't such a good one.

  "Yes. I'm looking into the murder that occurred on the next block."

  "Oh, that's just horrible. I'm so relieved they caught the person. In this neighborhood, a crime like that? It's murder on comps. " The woman shuddered.

  "Yes, well," Lucie said. "I see this home has a security camera above the door. I'm sure the police have inquired about it, but since you're here, I thought I'd ask."

  "I see." The realtor inched backward over the threshold with an I-swear-I-don't-know-anything look plastered on her face.

  Time to get a little aggressive. Not wanting to spook the woman, Lucie remained in her spot. "I hate to bother you, but it's imperative that all information be given to the police."

  "Why? They arrested someone."

  "The case is circumstantial. At best."

  That halted the realtor's retreat. "What? They might have the wrong person?"

  Not might. "It's a possibility. Imagine what that revelation would do to home values."

  For a second, the woman stared at Lucie, her face a mix of confusion and doubt. Time to pull out the big guns.

  "I apologize for bothering you, but this really is a matter of public safety. If we could get a copy of the video, it might show suspicious activity around the house."

  "I'm not authorized to release any videos. I can contact the owners though and ask them to call you."

  Dang it. Minor setback. Lucie hadn't come this far to walk away empty handed. Time for plan B.

  If only she had a plan B.

  "I'm sorry," the realtor said, "I have an appointment."

  "I understand. I'll let you go, but…" Total longshot here. "Is there any chance you could show me the video from the night of the murder?"

  She wasn't Joe Rizzo's kid for nothing.

  Now the woman stepped fully inside, wrapped her hand around the door, and started closing it. "I'm sorry. I can't help you. I'll call the owner though. Call my office." She poked a finger at the sign. "If the owner says it's okay to give you his number, I'll do that. Sorry."

  And, she's gone.

  Total bust. Two good possibilities, first the agent and now the newfound security system, had netted her a big whopping zilch. Every tiny lead seemed to be blowing up. She fought the absolute crush of frustration in her shoulders. Something had to give or Ro would be facing a jury.

  Tim.

  She'd fire off a text and let him know the house behind Buzzy's had video security. Damn it. What they really needed was Buzzy's backup video from the security company. How a corporation could sit on a warrant involving a murder, Lucie couldn't bend her mind around.

  Heck, maybe she'd call them too. Hit them with her private detective line and see what happened. Nothing to lose.

  The neighbor's security might be a stretch, but if Lucie could get a look at Buzzy's? She might be able to wrap this whole thing up.

  She pounded out the text, added a couple of hearts and an I love you, and tapped the send button. He wouldn't be happy with her butting in again, but...oh well. These last couple of months the hot, Irish detective had been toughening up, getting used to Lucie and the insanity known as her life.

  Anticipating his response, she powered the phone down. Why allow herself to be distracted with an unhappy boyfriend?

  Denial. Sometimes a girl's best friend.

  She tucked the phone in her purse and made her way down the alley, cutting across Buzzy's backyard to the rear of Lorraine’s house. If she did this quickly, she'd be at Lorraine's front door before the cops at either end of the block spotted her.

  "Wonder Womaannnn," she sang in a quiet voice as she sneaked through Lorraine's gate.

  Coming here unannounced had been a risk. Hopefully one that would come out in Lucie's favor. The element of surprise and all that. If she'd called, Lorraine might have put her off. Particularly with the whole protest fiasco. Now, showing up at the door—assuming her target was even at home—made it harder for Lorraine to send her away.

  "Wonder Womaannnn."

  She poked the bell.

  A lyrical chime sounded followed by a squawk. Either Lorraine had taken custody of Felix, or she had her own crazy parrot.

  The door opened and Lucie pasted on a sort-of smile. Nothing too over the top.

  The little crease between Lorraine’s eyebrows deepened and her head snapped back. "Lucie. Hello."

  Ah, yes. The element of surprise. "Hi."

  Struck mute, Lorraine simply stared.

  "Um," Lucie said, "can I come in for a second?"

  Lorraine bopped herself on the forehead and stepped back, holding the door open. "Of course. I'm so sorry. My brain is...gone. Did we have an appointment scheduled?"

  "No. I took a chance coming by."

  "I see."

  "I hope that's okay."

  "Not a problem at all. I'd planned to call you today anyway."

  Huh. What was this now? "About?"

  Lorraine led Lucie into the large kitchen where white stone countertops gleamed and French doors anchored a wall of windows. The tiny yard backed up to the row of homes on the next block.

  The kitchen, although the same shape as Buzzy's, was more modern with smooth gray cabinets, slick handles, and stainless appliances. Buzzy's kitchen? Traditional. Dark woods and warm paint all the way. How different the sisters' tastes were.

  In the sea of cool tones, sat a burst of hot pink. Buzzy's tablet. Lucie recognized the giant BS on the cover. Early on, Lucie and Buzzy had shared a laugh over how it could, depending on Buzzy's mood, represent her initials or the bullshit she dealt with on any given day.

  "Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!" Felix squawked, the sharpness carrying from the adjoining room.

  Here we go again.

  Lorraine rubbed her palm up her forehead. "That bird. He never stops."

  The strain in her voice, the defeat that came with devastating loss, brought Lucie's gaze back to Lorraine's puffy eyes. The woman had to be beat.

  Losing her sibling would be enough to derail Lucie, never mind living next door to the crime scene and having to deal with Buzzy’s affairs. In fact, when Lucie left here, she'd hunt down her idiot, lug of a brother and hug him. Just because she could.

  "Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"

  Lorraine grunted. "He does this all day and night. Just keeps screaming. Why couldn't my sister have taught him nice words?"

  "I wonder if he's mourning. I know dogs go through grief when they lose someone. I suppose a parrot could."

  "I don't know. He's driving me crazy though. There is no sleep to be had around here."

  "I'm so sorry, Lorraine."

  She motioned Lucie to a stool at the breakfast bar. "Thank you. But this isn't fair to you. Si
nce you're here and I was going to call you anyway, let's talk business. I looked into the issue with the designs."

  Ro's designs.

  Lorraine sat on the stool beside Lucie and swiveled to face her. Good. With the amount of money at stake, Lucie preferred looking straight at her, searching for any sign of deception. "And?"

  "The lawyer would kill me for saying this, but I don't know what my sister was thinking selling those designs without some sort of agreement in place."

  Translation: Buzzy stole them, but Lorraine wouldn't admit it. What they had here was a negotiation. One that would compensate Coco Barknell, but save face for Buzzy.

  Still, a sense of relief washed over Lucie. At least now, maybe they could avoid a court battle that would cost everyone a bundle.

  "Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"

  That bird. Crazy. Lucie's eye went to Buzzy’s tablet and the BS on the cover. She knew what the BS stood for today. "What do you propose?"

  "Normally, when my sister does distribution deals, the partner gets 10%."

  Ten percent! Ridiculous. Lucie opened her mouth, but Lorraine held up a hand. "Normally most folks are thrilled with that. The percentage is small, but my sister's name creates volume. In the first week, most entrepreneurs make more than they would in twenty years of selling the product on a smaller scale."

  The logic was sound, but this wasn't about money. Not completely. These were Ro's designs. She deserved the credit.

  "Lorraine, ten percent won't do it. I'm sorry."

  "I know. Which is why, as a goodwill gesture to make this go away and let me get on with dealing with my sister's estate, I'm going to offer you fifty percent. Plus, your company will get credit for the design."

  Fifty percent. Plus a credit. Lucie did some quick math and...holy cow. That Fortune 500 dream might not be out of the question.

  But she'd play this cool. Not let her excitement take over. First things first. She needed to speak to Ro. These were her designs. This decision, they'd make together.

  "Thank you, Lorraine. I appreciate you seeing our side of this. Obviously, I need to speak to my team. Can I get back to you in a day or two?"

  "Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"

  "Of course. And, I just realized, you came here to talk to me and I didn't even give you a chance. What can I help you with?"