Dog Collar Chaos

by Adrienne Giordano

  Somehow, after receiving her offer, demanding the woman not organize protests against Coco Barknell seemed rude. And requesting the names of her sister's boyfriends even more so.

  How the heck could she even transition to that?

  The cordless rang—phew—and Lorraine glanced down at it. "Lucie, I'm so sorry. I have to take this. It will only take five minutes. Do you mind? Then, I promise, you'll have my undivided attention."

  Saved by the bell. Literally. "Sure," Lucie said. "Take your time."

  Lorraine scooped up the phone and left the kitchen, obviously heading somewhere for privacy.

  The few extra minutes gave Lucie time to pull a topic out of her rear. Something about the fashion show. The menu. Beef or chicken?

  Ugh. She needed better than that.

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

  The flash of hot pink still on the counter drew Lucie's eye. In one of her early meetings with Buzzy, they'd discussed a file that Buzzy needed. The file however, was on her laptop and she hadn't had it with her. The tablet proved handy when she logged into her online backup system and retrieved the file.

  Lucie cocked her head. Did the security system backup to the online system? If she could get on the tablet...

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

  If Felix hadn't been screaming that same series of phrases since the other night, Lucie would consider it a warning.

  Now? With all of her leads fizzling out, not so much.

  She swiveled on the stool and checked the hallway. No Lorraine.

  Hmmm... Total invasion of privacy.

  Ro in jail.

  Yeah, much worse.

  Decision made, she slid the tablet over, flipped open the cover and tapped the button. The password screen lit up.

  Four digits.

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

  "Crazy bird."

  Wait. 5-5-1-1. Four digits. Lucie opened her mouth. Shut it again. Could it be? She checked the hallway again—no Lorraine—and took a shot. Why not? That nutty bird kept hollering the number. Maybe it meant something.

  She poked at the keypad. 5-5-1-1.

  A small click sounded and—bingo—the Foo-Foo Entertainment logo popped up on the screen.

  I'm in.

  A surge of energy zinged straight up her arms. In the words of the immortal Joey: Holy shit. This is it.

  The first solid break to freeing Ro.

  Buzzy's favorite locations filled the screen and Lucie tapped the backup site. Could she get this lucky? If Buzzy kept the password stored on the tablet, yes, she could.

  The login appeared, the fields automatically populating, and Lucie's heart started to pound.

  She shouldn't do this. It had to be trespassing. At the very least, unauthorized access.

  Worth the jail time?

  Absolutely.

  She peeped back over her shoulder. Still no Lorraine.

  Trespassing or not, this was her chance. An opportunity to see if a video backup from the night of the murder existed. If she thought too long and hard about it, she'd get caught. Five minutes Lorraine had said.

  Five minutes.

  Running on adrenaline, Lucie logged in and went straight for the left sidebar. Two clicks later, a list of dates appeared. She clicked on the date of the murder and—whoa—Buzzy had a lot of files. Documents, spreadsheets, photos. What she needed was an mp4. Easy. She sorted by file type and found the video files.

  Yes! All the backups were there. Months’ worth. Lucie nearly cried. Now, she had evidence and everyone would see Ro was innocent. She scanned the dates on the folders, each in chronological order. One folder per day.

  Easy. Peasy.

  The magic date was December 6. Once Lucie had that, assuming the backup was the original, Ro would be proven innocent.

  Free as a bird.

  Lucie scrolled down the list, pausing at the end of November, slowly reading each date. Weird tension consumed her, kept her glued to the chair. Her fingers trembled with excess energy.

  December 6. That's all she needed.

  She continued reading. December 1, 2, 3...

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

  Lucie flinched. Psycho bird. She could see where he'd get annoying. She glanced down the hall. Still no Lorraine, but those five minutes were easily over. Get moving, sister. Lucie refocused on the list of dates.

  December 4, 5, 7.

  Wait. What the heck?

  She had to have missed it. She scanned the list again, slowing at December 1 and reading each date. No December 6.

  Just stop it.

  The sense of anticipation vanished like a tornado out of steam. Lucie sagged forward, her eyes still on the screen.

  Where the hell is it?

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

  She wouldn't panic. No sir. These online programs got hinky sometimes. Could be a fluke. She tapped the date field at the top of the screen and the video sort changed from newest to oldest. She tapped it again and resorted.

  No December 6.

  The file was gone.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  "Lucie?" Lorraine’s voice sounded from behind her, "what are you doing?"

  After striking out on finding an AWOL suspect, Tim walked into the bullpen at headquarters and immediately sensed...something. The stench of burned coffee lingered. Someone must have left the burner on with only a swig left in the pot. One day these dumbasses would torch the place.

  Three other detectives sat at their crappy desks—in equally crappy chairs—covered with notepads, files, and random bits of personal items. All of them glanced up, muttered a hello of some sort, and went back to whatever held their attention.

  Having worked with the guys in his squad for a few years, Tim understood their moods. Tension was a potent thing. No matter what the situation, a breaking case, a fresh situation, a devastating day of testimony, whatever, it left a silent rumble in the air. An undercurrent that streamed and vibrated.

  Or the tension could have been his own dread over facing his lieutenant with an update that equaled zilch.

  After dealing with that crazy protest, an eyewitness suddenly having amnesia, and—oh, right—Frank Falcone showing up, his day was firmly in the crapper.

  He got to his desk, dumped his phone and keys, and slid off his suit coat. A few texts had come in, but he had a call to make regarding said amnesiac witness before he got caught up in any distractions.

  Darnell Banks hung up his phone and glanced over at him. "You pissy? You look pissy and we don't need that around here."

  Excellent. Confirmation that the tension wasn't his imagination. "What's up?"

  Darnell jerked his head sideways. "Lou is behind closed doors. Conference call with the brass."

  "Why?"

  "Don't know. Sneider murder. Maybe."

  Tim dropped into his chair sending the springs into a squeaking fit. "Something pop?"

  He never took to calling on the Lord to help solve a case, but he was sure an ulcer was starting over Ro being incarcerated. Lucie’s general involvement in the whole mess ripped his guts out.

  So, yeah, today, he'd ask the good Lord for some assistance on finding this killer.

  Darnell lifted a hand. "All I know is the call came in. Lou told everyone not to bug him and that was that."

  "Then I guess we wait."

  Tim tapped his phone to scroll his texts. One from Lucie. Telling him she was going to Lorraine’s. Tim slid the top drawer open and reached for his travel tube of antacids. He popped two, added a third for insurance, and finished reading the text that informed him the house behind Buzzy's had video monitoring.

  His girl, in an obvious end run because she knew she was ripping his guts out, followed it up with two heart emojis and an I love you. No one would ever accuse her of being stupid.

  He sat back and sighed.

  "You okay?" Darnell wanted to know.

 
"Yeah. It's been one hell of a long week today."

  He tapped Lucie's name and waited for the call to connect. Straight to voicemail. The little witch had turned her phone off.

  God, he loved her.

  He scratched an itch on the side of his face. The one that had sparked the second he saw Frankie in Lucie's shop. He'd been anticipating Mr. Slick's return, but had hoped he'd have a warning. A day at least to mentally prepare for Lucie seeing her first love again.

  Tim knew Lucie loved him. Didn't doubt it for a second.

  The problem was, she'd loved Frankie too. And sometimes that messed with one's mind. He couldn't get twisted about it. Couldn't. He'd told her from the beginning he wasn't interested in a love triangle. He wanted her and only her. Caveman that he was, he expected the same.

  Period.

  His lieutenant's door opened and Lou stuck his head out. "O'Brien, get in here. We have a development."

  Chapter Fifteen

  A development.

  Just what he needed.

  Tim strode into his boss's cramped office, taking the metal-framed chair Lou pointed to. Budgets being what they were, the city didn't splurge on furniture. Hell, most of the time they were grateful for whatever they got.

  He settled into the chair, resting his hands on his thighs, and met his boss's dark gaze. "Problem?"

  What this could be, he wouldn't even attempt a guess. Between his cases and Lucie, anything was possible.

  "No. The Sneider case." Lou circled a hand. "I know you have a personal connection here."

  Tim's stomach clenched. Up to now, he had been boxed out of any case details. Why did his boss suddenly want to discuss it with him? Unless one of the homicide guys had squealed that Tim inquired about Buzzy’s agent. Hell, he hadn’t even had a chance to tell Lucie they’d cleared the guy and Tim was already in a jackpot over it.

  "I just got off a call," Lou said. "The backup of the security video was deleted from the victim's account. The company is checking to see if they might be able to pull it from their system. Backup of a backup type thing."

  Tim's heart began a steady thump and he let out an easy breath. Maybe this wasn’t about the agent.

  The lack of a backup wasn’t great news, but it might not be a total loss. Even with the backup being deleted from Buzzy’s end, recovering it from the security company’s system might be a possibility.

  "Who deleted it?"

  "We're looking into that. Whoever it was, logged in as Buzzy Sneider."

  "After the fact."

  Lou jerked his head.

  Which meant someone who had Buzzy's login blew that file away. Call him cynical, but Tim didn't know a whole lot of people who gave out the logins to their home security system. Even with her army of assistants, would the woman actually give out her password?

  "Had to be someone close to her."

  Again, Lou jerked his head. "The homicide guys wanted me to ask, given your relationship with Lucie Rizzo, if you have ideas on who that person might be. Perhaps Lucie said something."

  For months, Tim had anticipated the brass asking questions about Lucie and her family. He'd always assumed he'd be outraged over the PD using him to build a case. The case being against Roseanne, and not Joe Rizzo, boggled the mind.

  Now that the question had finally come?

  No outrage.

  Not even a little. He sat back, pondered his conversations with Lucie. The theft of the designs, the pending lawsuit, the meetings with Buzzy's sister.

  Lorraine.

  Who Lucie had just texted him about. A wildcard, that one. Before Buzzy's death, Tim hadn't heard much, if anything about her.

  But...

  "Crap," he said.

  "What?"

  Tim pushed out of the chair, already moving to the door. "The sister. See what they know about her."

  Lucie whirled around. Lorraine stood in the doorway, her gaze shooting to the tablet. Caught.

  Improvise. That's what she'd do. A little soft shoe to save her own butt. All those years of watching her father's legal battles had taught her a thing or twenty.

  "Hi." She pointed at the tablet. "It was, um, making a noise. Beeping."

  Beeping? Lame, lame, lame.

  Lorraine’s fierce look indicated exactly what she thought of Lucie's so-called beeping noise. She strode toward her, her steps swift and precise, and Lucie took a tiny step back. Lorraine scooped up the tablet, studied the screen, and a vein in her temple bulged. A big, nasty bulge. Lucie inched back another step.

  "You're snooping in my sister’s files? How did you even get in?"

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

  Well, that answered that question.

  Lorraine stomped toward the connecting archway leading to the study, her bare feet smacking against the tile. She poked her finger in Felix's direction. "You asshole bird. Shut up! I hate you."

  Alrighty then. Felix wasn't exactly getting the love from Auntie Lorraine.

  Time to go.

  Lucie held up both hands. "This seems to be a bad time. I'll come back later. And...I'm sorry I snooped in Buzzy's files. My intentions were good. Truly. I'd heard Buzzy had been dating someone. That’s why I came here. To ask you about the man. See if he might be a suspect. When you left the room, I thought I'd see if I could find the backup of the security video. That's all. Believe me, I want to find your sister's murderer as much as you do."

  "The police have arrested Roseanne." She punched the tablet in the air. "The security video doesn't matter."

  "It's not there anyway."

  Lucie knew that already. It sat like a block of cement in her stomach. She'd failed Ro. Her BFF, her soul sister. From the time they were kids, Ro had been her protector. Even when they disagreed, Ro had been steadfast in her support. The bury-the-body person, they'd often joked.

  Now they literally had a body and Lucie was helpless. Road blocks everywhere.

  Miserable over her failure, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lorraine, I've overstepped here."

  "You certainly have. Now get out."

  Gladly. She scooped up her handbag remembering she needed to turn her phone back on when she got to the door. As soon as she left, she'd call Tim, let him know that she was done investigating. That he was right. She didn't belong in the middle of a police matter. All this running around, accomplishing nothing, and ignoring her work wouldn't help either. If the company failed, Ro wouldn't have a job to come home to.

  If she came home.

  Damn it.

  Lucie slid her purse onto her shoulder then turned back to Lorraine, still holding that tablet.

  The backup. Gone.

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

  Poor Felix. That little guy might be suffering from trauma over seeing his owner murdered. If only he could tell them what he saw.

  Lucie halted as a wicked hiss stung her ears.

  December 6. The day of the murder. No video. The only day missing. Last Lucie checked, dead people couldn’t delete computer files.

  Lucie eyed the hallway in front of her. The front door. Her way out. Just leave.

  She should go. Get out of this crazy situation and go back to her office. Back to running Coco Barknell.

  Ro.

  Lucie pulled her gaze from the door to Lorraine, still standing near the study entrance.

  "Get out," Lorraine said.

  Lucie met her cold stare. "I'm going. I have a question first."

  "Fine. What?"

  "Why did you delete that backup?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  Run.

  Something inside, deep in Lucie's brain, screamed it. Run. Run. Run. She eyed the front door again. Probably locked. But she had a straight shot. Even if Lorraine cut through the study, Lucie would get the jump on her.

  What was she running from? She'd yet to figure out what had happened. Maybe someone else, one of Buzzy's legion of assistants deleted that file.

  Except, Lorraine wasn't denying it. Lucie
had asked her straight out.

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

  Lorraine screwed up her face and stomped toward Felix. "Shut the fuck up!"

  Oh, boy. Looney Lorraine.

  "I've been listening to that bird night and day since my sister died. He never stops. It's constant. Now I'm done."

  Lucie had a flash of panic, a vision of Felix, his little claws clinging to his perch as Lorraine swung that cage in a fit of rage.

  Nuh-uh. If nothing else, Lucie would save a defenseless bird. In honor of Ro, whom she’d failed, she'd save the PITA bird.

  She caught up to Lorraine and elbowed around her, forming a human shield in front of Felix's cage.

  She worked up her best Lucie sneer and put a little mean into it. "Don't you touch him. He's grieving. And, and...he's pissed because he saw—"

  Whoopsie. Couldn't say that. Saying that equaled throwing bloody bait into shark infested waters.

  Lorraine faced her again, her eyes hyper-focused and burning. "He saw her die. I know. But it was an accident."

  Lucie's head snapped back.

  An accident. Again, Lucie eyed the exit. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  "Sure," she said, "I get it. It's not Felix's fault though. Let's just stay calm here."

  "I'm calm. Trust me. After the week I've had, I'm an expert at calm. Now is no exception." Lorraine took one step forward. "We have a problem, Lucie."

  Problem? What problem? No problem.

  Run.

  Lucie pointed over her shoulder to the door. "If you're okie-dokey here, I'll just—"

  Lorraine’s hand whipped out, locking on Lucie's arm.

  Well, apparently they were going there.

  Lucie backed farther into the room, bumped a side chair, and, with Lorraine’s hold tightening, slid sideways. The chair held two throw pillows. Fairly useless weapons, but a girl had to work with what she had. She reached down, gripped a corner of one of the pillows, and something in Lorraine’s crazy eyes flashed.

  Ffffttt. Lucie whipped the pillow, yanked free of the vise-like grip, and bolted, her feet gaining traction on the area rug.

  Front door. Right there. Just feet away.