Using great care—most likely to avoid popping a seam— Ro slid into the vacant chair next to Joey. “What’s this meeting about?”
Lucie held up the summons. “We’re being sued by Antoine. And I just found a copy of his recipe in my briefcase.”
A long gasp of air exploded from Ro’s mouth.
“Yep,” Lucie said. “We’re strategizing how to prove I didn’t take that damned recipe. If we do that, this whole lawsuit goes away. And, tick-tock, because we’re supposed to have a ransom drop tomorrow.”
Mom popped her head back in. “I have to go next door. Iris dropped one of her anti-psychotic pills and she can’t find it. She’s afraid the cat will eat it.”
Lucie had long since given up correcting her mother about Iris’ anti-anxiety meds. What was the point?
A minute later, the back door closed and Joey waggled a hand. “It’s good that she’s gone. We can talk now.”
Joey liked to protect their mother from all things criminal. Even Lucie’s so-called screwball investigations.
“I think,” Lucie said, “we should follow up on Molly managing Reuben. Am I the only one who thinks that’s odd? Especially since he didn’t get invited to Antoine’s party. Molly would have seen that as an opportunity for him to mingle with high-rollers and potential employers.”
Joey sat back, his big body making Grandma Rizzo’s antique chair squeak. “Brace yourselves, but I’m gonna agree with Luce. Not that it’s weird that this Molly broad handles the chef, but that we should take a look at her. I mean, we’re not getting anywhere with the firefighters, right?”
“No. The background checks all came back clean. Aside from that, I’m not sure where to start with them. I want to at least give Molly a cursory look.”
“Awright,” Joey said. “What’s your plan?”
“The obvious thought is to get into her office and look around.”
“True,” Ro said. “We should go over there. Talk to her about this crazy lawsuit and snoop.”
“And how are we supposed to search her office with her in there?”
Ro let out a huff. “My work is never done. We’ll create a distraction or something, I don’t know. We just need to get her out of the office.”
Not a bad thought, but that would give them what? Five minutes? To snoop around an entire office? Too little time.
Dad made a humming noise. “What you do is wait for her to leave.”
This is what growing up with criminals got her. “As in break into her office?”
Dad shrugged.
“Dad! I’m not doing that. Snooping is one thing, breaking and entering? Not happening.”
Tim would have a fit. And she wouldn’t risk that. Nothing was worth losing him over.
“Ho,” Jimmy said, “We should get those pain in the ass agents surveilling us to go in there. That’s the way to do it.”
Lemon backhanded Jimmy on the arm. “Remember when those bastards played like they were from the cable company and talked their way into your house?”
Joey cocked his head. “I never heard this. What happened?”
“Eh. It was years ago. Somethin’ went screwy with my cable. My wife called and they said they’d send someone out. I leave the house and right away the guy shows up. He walks around, goes into the basement and does his thing. He can’t figure it out. Tells my wife he’ll send someone else. An hour later another guy shows up and he gets it fixed. No problem.”
“Tell me,” Joey said, “the first guy was a fed planting a bug.”
“Yep.”
“How’d you find it?”
Dad raised his hand. “After I got acquitted the second time, I got cautious.”
Oh, please. Cautious didn’t cover it. Back then her father had been downright paranoid. The stress level in Villa Rizzo had been insane. If Mom opened the drapes, Dad would close them. They had lived like shut-ins, rarely going out to dinner or to movies or any place where someone might have the opportunity to bug the house. Dad walked around speaking with his hand over his mouth because he was afraid lip readers were spying on him. That was a crazy year before the government finally hit pay dirt and nailed Dad on a tax charge that earned him two years in the clink.
“Cautious how?” Ro asked.
Jimmy looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “He hired someone to come in and sweep our houses for bugs every week.”
Joey grinned at Dad. “Your guy found the bug?”
“Why do you think I had you start sweeping the house after I went away?”
“Huh,” Joey said, his voice packing a whole lot of wonder. “I never knew that.”
“You didn’t need to know.”
And there it was, their father, the puppeteer, allowing people to have only the information they needed. Was it fair? Who knew. He never shared his business with Lucie. Never. Joey? Parts of it, but Dad had been clear, Joey wouldn’t have an active role in the life. Being a bookie was one thing. Becoming a mob guy? Dad wouldn’t have it.
In his own twisted way, he wanted different—better even—for Joey.
Ro smoothed a wrinkle on the sleeve of her blouse. “Too bad Molly knows me. I’d make a great fed.”
That revelation left the meeting occupants in a stunned, hanging silence.
Ro gave each of them the stink-eye. “You think I couldn’t do it?”
“You don’t exactly blend,” Joey said.
Before this turned into one of their knockdown arguments, Lucie held up her hands. “Pretty sure posing as a federal agent is a crime.”
“Hang on,” Joey said.
No hang on. Nuh-uh. Hang on, with this particular bunch, meant nuttiness that might get someone confined to a penitentiary.
Her brother sat staring at the wall, his eyes a little squinty as he mulled something over.
Nothing but trouble to be had there. “Let’s go back to the distraction idea,” Lucie said. “We’ll try to meet with Molly and get her out of the office. Definitely the safer way to go.”
“No,” Joey said. “I’ll do it.”
Wha…
Everyone swiveled toward him.
“We’ve got this,” he said. “One of the cable guys comes into Petey’s all the time for lunch. He wears his employee ID around his neck. We’ll mock one up on the computer, put it in one of those lanyard things. I’ll park myself outside this Molly’s office and wait ’til she leaves. Then, boom.” Joey clapped his hands. “I walk in there, tell them we have to check their wiring.”
Lucie shook her head. “Not a good idea. If you get caught—”
“If I get caught, I’ll leave. Are they going to arrest me for impersonating a cable guy?”
“There’s a reality show for ya,” Lemon cracked. “Joey the Cable Guy.”
Ro did jazz hands. “Ooh, we should put a video camera on him—like the SEALs use on missions so the president can watch. We’ll be able to see everything.”
Dad pointed at her. “I like it.”
Ohmigod. “No. We’re not doing that.”
“Baby girl, think like the government. It’s not a crime when it comes to law enforcement. If this broad is rotten, she needs to be dealt with. Consider it your civic duty. You’ll be doing America a favor.”
Joe Rizzo, law professor.
Roseanne nodded. “He’s right, Luce. You said yourself we’re running out of leads. This will be one more lead to check off our list. Joey is smart. If he gets in there and things don’t feel right, he’ll leave. No harm, no foul.”
“I like it,” Dad said. “I’ve always told your brother to watch out for you. And, no offense, baby girl, lately”—Dad motioned like he was turning a screw—“you’ve needed a lot of help. You didn’t see my last bill from Willie.”
“Don’t start, Dad. I said I’d pay it.”
“Cripes,” Joey said, “here we go with the Miss-High-and-Mighty routine. Look, I’m doing this. I don’t care what you say. It’s not just about you. Ro is a partner in Coco Barknell. Any lawsuit ag
ainst you affects her.”
Lucie sat back, the air—or maybe the fight—leaving her body. They’ll do it anyway.
They would. Rizzos, including her, had been taught to never, ever give up. Whether it was a crossword puzzle, building a business, beating a criminal case, no matter what it took, they battled on. Even if it meant winding up a bloody stump.
That’s what tunnel vision did—it messed with the mind and justified any action as long as they persevered.
Tick-tock. That ransom drop neared. Once Antoine paid the money, if that’s what he still intended, he’d be out millions and still think she’d perpetrated the scheme.
Can’t have that.
Lucie pushed out of the chair. “The only way to get rid of this lawsuit is to prove I’m innocent.” She met Joey’s eye. “Let’s do it. But if you get caught, I’m taking the fall. I’ll tell them it was all my idea.”
“I won’t get caught. Believe me.”
Lucie and Ro sat in the front seat of Ro’s giant Escalade, while Joey made his way down the block to Molly Jacardi’s office. They’d dropped Joey off around the corner just in case someone spotted the big lug getting out of an SUV rather than a vehicle provided by the cable company. Now they sat across the street from Molly’s office watching the activity.
“Testing, one, two, three,” Joey said.
“Roger that,” Ro said into the microphone on her headset.
First the spy electronics and now military lingo?
Lord. What were they doing?
Some quick research to the cable company’s website verified the uniform of khaki pants and a red golf shirt with the company’s logo. Ro downloaded the logo from the company website and with the help of Coco Barknell’s commercial embroidery machine, voila, Joey the Cable Guy.
More importantly, he wore clear, dark rimmed eyeglasses—fake lenses—with a video camera tucked into the bridge. They’d purchased said glasses at the spy shop downtown. Lucie was once again amazed at the litany of scary things that could be purchased by walking into a retail store. She’d never look at anyone wearing eyeglasses without wondering…
A foul odor filled the car. Lucie whirled to see Sonny, Jimmy’s crazy Jack Russell, snoozing on the back seat. Sonny was their plan B. If Joey got into trouble, Lucie would walk in with Sonny, using the excuse of being in the neighborhood walking a client, and request to speak with Molly.
Half-assed plan, for sure, but it would distract Molly’s employees and hopefully allow Joey to sneak out the back door.
“That animal has the worst gas,” Ro said.
“This is nuts.”
“Well, sister, if you have a better idea, let’s hear it.”
Lucie watched as her brother strode through the door of the one-story brick building with large windows on either side of the entrance. Sickness welled in her stomach and she breathed in. How could she let her brother risk this for her? Was impersonating a cable guy a crime?
Should have researched that.
“I shouldn’t let him do this.”
“As if you’d be able to talk him out of it? You know what a Neanderthal he is. He loves you. He loves me, too. This is his way of taking care of us.”
Lucie tilted her head, puckering her lips as she considered options.
“Hi,” Joey’s voice burst through her headset. Lucie focused on the iPad screen Ro held between them. Her brother stood in front of the receptionist’s desk inside Molly’s office. They couldn’t see him, but had a visual of everything in his sightline.
“Hello,” the receptionist said. “Can I help you?”
“I’m from the cable company. We’re upgrading the lines and I need to swap out some hardware.”
The receptionist peered straight ahead. Probably at Joey’s doctored ID.
“Ro, if she looks too close…”
Joey glanced down, giving Lucie and Ro a clear view when he shifted his tool bag to his other hand and accidentally flipped the ID over.
“He’s so good,” Ro said.
But was that anything to be proud of?
Americans will thank you. Funny how something so twisted and illogical could justify their actions. Particularly when it came from Dad.
Intellectually, Lucie knew better. Emotionally? Not so much.
Onscreen, the young receptionist rose from her chair and waved Joey down the corridor leading to the offices and conference room. Her heels clicked against the hand-carved hardwood as Joey followed her, his gaze drifting south.
South to the young woman’s butt firmly encased in fitted slacks.
Ro let out a long sigh. “Joey, you’d better not be checking out that girl’s rear.”
And, whoopsie, Joey’s head snapped back up.
“Animal,” Ro muttered. “This is what happens when you let men off-leash.”
Joey snorted and the receptionist glanced over her shoulder. “One of our employees is using the conference room. You can start in her office or this first one.”
Lucie, having picked up Brie at Molly’s office one time, spoke into her headset. “First one. That’s Molly’s office.”
Joey stopped, jerked a thumb. “I can start in here and make my way down.”
The receptionist paused and swung back. “Okay. How long do you think you’ll be?”
“Not long. Thirty or forty minutes.”
The receptionist glanced toward the front, then to Molly’s office, clearly deciding how to handle the big guy with the fake ID that she didn’t know was fake. “All right. I can’t leave the phones, but I’ll come back and check on you.”
Ro let out a huff. “He’s the cable man for God’s sake, not a thief.”
“Technically, with what we’re doing, he’s a thief.”
“You know what I mean.”
The receptionist pushed open the door to Molly’s office and left Joey standing in the hallway.
“Here we go,” Joey said.
He stepped in, quickly scanning an office that should have been featured in a magazine. Slick, glossy, and insanely neat.
Coming from Lucie, who prided herself on being organized, that was saying something.
Keeping her gaze on the office’s front entrance, Lucie nodded. “Good. Don’t dawdle. Find the cable outlet in case she comes back. Then start at the desk, but look around first. Make sure there are no security cameras.”
They watched as her brother snapped a pair of latex gloves on and did a quick scan of the ceilings. No cameras. That didn’t always mean anything, but they’d have to roll with it and hope Molly didn’t have a camera hidden in a picture frame.
Joey located the cable outlet behind the credenza near Molly’s desk. Dragging some tools out, he set them on the credenza, then turned back, checking the doorway.
Ro clucked her tongue. “Maybe I should go in there and distract the receptionist.”
“No,” Lucie said. “If we need to, I’ll go in. We’ll put our gassy friend back here to work.”
“Man,” Joey said, keeping his voice barely a whisper, “this chick is a neat freak. Luce, I thought you were bad.” He slid open the second desk drawer where files were evenly spaced.
“Joey, look for a file with Reuben LeBeau’s name on it. Be careful not to mess anything up. If she’s like me, she’ll notice if someone’s been in her space.”
“Nothing,” Joey said. “This is all banking and tax stuff. Doesn’t look like client files.”
Leave it to them to find a paperless office when it came to client files.
“Do you see a filing cabinet?”
Joey looked around, his head moving so fast the image on screen bounced.
“No filing cabinet.”
The sound of the receptionist’s heels clicking sounded.
“Shit.” Joey grabbed one of the tools from the top of the credenza and hit the deck, once again sending the images on the iPad bouncing.
“Everything all right in here?”
“I’m good.” He called from his spot on the floor. H
e sat up and faced the receptionist who stood in the doorway. “Do you mind if I move this credenza?”
Ah, nice touch.
He held up his gloved hands. “It’s so neat in here, I didn’t want to get fingerprints on anything.”
Good one.
The receptionist smiled. “That’s considerate. Move whatever you need to, as long as you put it back.”
“Sure thing.”
She took off again and Joey hopped to his feet, making the screen wobble again. Did he have to move so fast? If he kept that up, vertigo would set in.
He opened the credenza doors, found various office supplies, pens, stapler, tape, and the all-important pen cup. Yep, Molly liked things neat and tidy.
He rummaged through the two smaller cabinets, finding a stack of magazines and some scrapbooks with news clippings. He flipped through the scrapbooks.
“What’s in there?”
“There’s some stuff about Antoine. Articles. Guessing it’s all clippings about clients.”
He finished his perusal of the inside pages, then checked the back cover, running his fingers over the edges, no doubt looking for secret compartments. One thing about growing up a mob kid, you knew how to hide things. And if Molly and Reuben were in cahoots against Antoine, maybe Molly stashed the evidence.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’ll check the bookshelf.”
He peered back at the doorway. Empty. On his way to the bookshelf he halted, slowly turning his head to a large framed print on the wall.
“What?”
“The picture. When we were in high school, I always used to hide weed behind that framed poster in my room.”
Lucie’s mouth fell. Of all the crazy things Joey had ever said—and there were a lot—this one held the distinction of astonishing her. “You smoked weed? Joey!”
“Seriously?” Ro said. “You? A pothead?”
“Hey, it was high school. I got over it quick. I didn’t like it. Dealing with you two? It might be an option again.”
“Ha,” Ro said. “Wise guy.”
Dog Collar Cuisine (A Lucie Rizzo Mystery Book 5) Page 12
