Dog Collar Cuisine (A Lucie Rizzo Mystery Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Well,” Ro said, “that was fun.”

  Lucie stared out the window at pedestrians huddled into their coats, hands tucked in pockets, fighting the cold. Not Tim though. He strode to his car completely ignoring the weather. Of course, he had enough steam to keep him warm. “He was really mad.”

  “Eh,” Ro waved it off. “He’ll get over it.”

  In Ro and Joey’s world, yelling and knockdown arguments occurred on a daily basis. If they weren’t mad at each other, something was wrong. They were twisted that way. Tim? Not his style. Anger, for him, sucked too much energy. Energy he needed to get through the depravity he saw in his day job.

  Lucie rested her elbow on the door and her chin in her hand. “Tim doesn’t get mad a lot.”

  “Crap,” Joey said from the backseat. “This field trip put me behind schedule. Ro, do me a favor, drop me off at the Lutzes’. I’ll get Otis walked now and it’ll save me time.”

  Otis? Lucie perked up. After this fiasco, a little Otis love might be just the thing Lucie needed to clear her mind. To regroup.

  “I’ll go with you. Seeing the big lug always clears my head. Stop at that donut shop around the corner so I can pee. I’m dying.”

  Twenty minutes later, Ro slipped into another fire zone near Otis’s house. Lucie and Joey hopped out.

  “I’ll stay here,” Ro said. She shifted to park and retrieved a nail file from the center console. “Don’t be long. We have work to do back at the office.”

  Never mind the fire zone.

  Lucie and Joey tromped up the driveway and entered the garage door code. The Lutzes, given the cushy neighborhood and the bankroll they’d dropped on the teardown and new construction of their home, had the luxury of a garage. The door silently opened. Not a creak or a squeak to be heard. Noise wouldn’t dare.

  Mrs. L’s car sat in its normal spot. She was home. Good. With her husband—Lucie’s former boss—doing a short prison stint for fraud, Mrs. L had gone to work part-time. Not so much for the money, but to occupy time. Watching her own mother grapple with the humiliation of a jailbird husband, Lucie understood the initial panic and stifling fear over how to support a household. Throw in the loneliness and Lucie never wanted to experience any of it.

  Lucie and Joey approached the inside garage entry, and Otis let out a woof.

  “Hey, buddy,” Lucie called in her I’m-so-excited voice before Joey even had the door open.

  Otis woofed again. A few seconds later a loud thump came from the other side of the door.

  “Don’t jump,” Lucie scolded.

  The big guy, an Olde English Bulldog, had to be eighty-five pounds by now. All that weight flying against Mrs. L’s door couldn’t be good.

  “See,” her brother said, “this is why you’re a disaster as a dog walker. Why would you get him so wound up before I even have the damned door open?”

  He turned the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  Joey grunted. “Great. He’s blocking the door.”

  Her mountain of a brother threw his formidable weight into the door, pushing it open.

  Otis’s giant head poked into the opening. His toothy under bite gave him a bad-to-the-bone appearance, but this dog was hardly a menace to society. Total mush.

  After Joey’s scolding, she contained her enthusiasm, but bent over and nuzzled his snout. “Hi, sweet boy. I missed you.”

  Otis offered up a lick or two then moved on to Joey, who squatted and gave him a good rub. “What’s up, dude? You ready for your walk?”

  “Well, hello, you two.”

  Lucie glanced up to where Mrs. L stood in the kitchen doorway. She wore skin-tight jeans, black leather boots, and a silk blouse. The ensemble screamed casual, but somehow Mrs. L always embodied elegance. The boots alone could probably pay someone’s mortgage.

  Lucie waved. “Hi. I’m crashing. Was in the neighborhood and figured I’d come and see my boy. I miss the bugger.”

  “You know he loves you. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m good. Busy.”

  Grabbing the leash from the hook, Joey clipped it on. “I’m gonna get him started. You can catch up, Luce.”

  Huh. Look at him, worrying about staying on time. And he teased her about her scheduling obsession?

  “Okay. Thanks.” She closed the door behind Joey and faced Mrs. L. “How’s everything here? How is Mr. L?”

  Lucie’s emotions regarding her former boss were still in flux. She’d always appreciate what he’d done for her career wise, but he’d also betrayed her. She’d trusted him, and he allowed her to get caught up in a financial fraud scheme that could have landed her in jail. Right next to him.

  “He’s fine. I visited over the weekend. He asks about you all the time. He feels terrible about what he did to you.”

  As well he should. “Send him a hello for me. I’m not holding any grudges.” Not many, anyway. “When he comes home, we’ll talk.”

  “He’d like that.”

  Being a girl who’d rather pass on negativity, she’d forgiven him. More for herself than him. She simply didn’t need to carry the anger and hurt around each day.

  Didn’t mean she’d trust him again.

  Ever.

  He’d been her mentor, the one who gave her a chance as a summer associate and had enough faith in her to hire her straight out of grad school. He’d taught her the ins and outs of investment banking. How to navigate the treacherous waters of deal-making and not piss off the banking regulators. For that, she’d be grateful.

  Wait.

  Regulators. Mr. L’s contacts. Major contacts. Ones who might be able to tell her if Molly Jacardi had a history of shady dealings. It wouldn’t prove she was currently blackmailing her client, but it would reveal her character. Or lack thereof.

  Lucie paused, staring at Mrs. L in her silk blouse and diamond earrings while her mind zipped.

  “Lucie?”

  He owes me.

  Lucie clunked herself on the head. “Sorry. My mind drifted. Mrs. L, could I ask a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know you and Mr. L have a lot of friends in finance. I’m in the middle of a…deal…right now. An…expansion of sorts.”

  “Good for you, Lucie. That’s lovely.”

  Hardly. “We’ll see. I’ve made a contact that I’d like to check on.” Lucie waved a hand. “You know, just to make sure they don’t have any financial violations out there.”

  “Oh, sure.” Mrs. L pursed her lips. “Our friend Milt works for FinCEN. I could put a call in for you if you’d like.”

  The Financial Crimes Enforcement Network. As a bureau of the Treasury Department, it was FinCEN’s job to monitor the financial system for illegal transactions.

  “Since you’re here,” Mrs. L said, “let’s do it right now.”

  Perfect. “Thank you. That would be great.”

  Mr. L’s friend Milt was in a meeting, so Lucie sent Ro and Joey home and killed time with Mrs. L while waiting. With the day slipping and no returned call, she finally hauled herself back to the office.

  Ro sat at her desk, pencil tucked behind her ear as she stared at a sketch pad. The cover had been thrown over Felix’s cage, indicating their ever-chatty parrot had pushed Ro’s nerves to their limits.

  “Don’t fucking do it!” Felix squawked from underneath his sheath.

  Ro slammed her palm against the desk. “That bird is lucky I haven’t put him on a spit.”

  “He doesn’t like the cover.”

  “Then he should shut up and learn. The only time I put the cover on is when he annoys me with that damned squawking. And don’t start about how he got me out of prison. I’m well aware. But there’s only so much I can take.”

  Drama, drama, drama.

  Lucie pulled the cover off, and Felix swung his head back and forth. “I know, pal. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” Felix said.

  Ro let out a dramatic sigh. “He’s totally playing you.”

  Probably. �
�Let’s try feeding him. That usually quiets him down.”

  Just as Lucie finished dealing with Felix, her cell phone rang. A DC number.

  The FinCEN guy. Goodie.

  “This is Lucie.”

  “Lucie, hello. This is Milt Savage returning your call.”

  Milt Savage. What a freaking awesome name. “Hello. Thank you for calling back.”

  “Sure. The Lutzes are good friends. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m assuming you talked to Mrs. L?”

  Ro shot Lucie a look, squinting a bit as she tried to figure out who was on the phone.

  “I did,” Milt said. “She said you needed help regarding a new business venture.”

  “Yes. I worked for Mr. Lutz as his assistant for a couple of years. I have my own business now and am considering partnering with someone. That person is represented by a manager, who I’m assuming will be handling the contracts and money for her client.”

  A brief hesitation filled the phone line. Friendship or not, this man was a government employee. Sharing personal information about citizens wasn’t just unethical, it was illegal.

  “I see,” he said.

  Yep. Totally losing him. “Obviously, I come from the finance world. I understand the ramifications of sharing information. I don’t expect that. I simply want to make sure I know who I’m getting into business with.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I know you are limited as to what you can tell me.”

  Now Ro’s eyebrows went up and she waved her hands. “Who’s that? Put it on speaker so I can hear.”

  As if.

  “I am, indeed,” Milt said.

  This didn’t sound hopeful and—wow—suddenly Lucie seemed pretty darned assertive, asking this man to risk so much for a stranger. What the heck was she doing?

  Guilt slammed her and she closed her eyes. Dope. Her single-minded effort to clear her name had seriously botched her thinking.

  “You know what,” she said. “Never mind. This was a bad idea. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”

  “Lucie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I call you right back?”

  Huh? Maybe he had another call? “Of course.”

  She disconnected. Ro, apparently done keeping her curiosity at bay, held her hands out. “What’s that about?”

  Lucie pointed to the phone. “Milt Savage. He’s a friend of Mr. Lutz.”

  “The rat-bastard.”

  “The rat-bastard with contacts at the Treasury Department and the Financial Crimes Network.”

  “Ooh, nice.”

  “Exactly. He’s checking Molly out for me. If there’s any suspicious activity on Molly’s accounts, I can have Tim look into it. He’s law enforcement. They can get banks to pony up information.”

  Ro waggled one of her red-tipped fingers. “You know what the whole calling you back thing means, right?”

  “Um, maybe he got another call?”

  “Pfft. Are you kidding? He’s afraid his work phone is monitored. He’s calling back on a secure line. So James Bond.”

  Lucie’s phone rang and she checked the number. A different one this time.

  “It’s a new number, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Ha! Knew it.”

  “Hello?”

  “Lucie? Milt Savage again. Sorry. I didn’t want to talk on my office line.”

  Well, holy moly. The drama queen was right.

  “Told ya,” Ro said, heavy on the smug.

  Lucie stuck her tongue out. “That’s fine,” she said to Milt. “But really, I don’t want to put you in a bad position. I realize I’m asking a lot here.”

  “You haven’t asked me anything yet. What is it that you want me to do?”

  Maybe this wasn’t such a bust after all. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me, without specifics, if there have been any suspicious activity reports filed on someone.”

  Another long pause ensued. This guy didn’t even know her. The banking world could be treacherous, though, and plenty of the players made side deals or shared information.

  Right now, all she needed was a yes or no. Perhaps, given her relationship with the Lutzes, he’d trust her enough to provide it.

  “Give me the name.”

  A burst of adrenaline spurted into Lucie’s system and she swung her free hand in the air. Yay, me. “You’ll do it?”

  “Lucie, I worked for Daniel Lutz myself. He made a mistake, but he gave me a career. For him, I’ll do this. I’ll give you a yes or no on the SARs, but that’s it.”

  “Thank you. Believe me, I know what I’m asking. If it weren’t important, I wouldn’t. And I promise to keep this between us. The name is Molly Jacardi.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Lucie punched off and set her phone on the desk, spinning it around.

  Ro shook her head. “Luce, what are you doing?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t even. Didn’t O’Hottie just tell you to stay out of it?”

  Lucie held up a finger. “He said no more schemes. He didn’t say anything about research.”

  Semantics. Sometimes they saved the day. Or Lucie’s behind when Tim got hold of her.

  Ro peeped at her over the funky reading glasses Lucie wasn’t all that sure she actually needed.

  “Now you’re dreaming. He’s not even my boyfriend and I’m sure he meant no activity on this at all. Period. Zip-oh.”

  Well, too bad. Certain things she’d risk. Lucie stabbed her finger into the desktop. “The ransom drop is tomorrow. If Antoine gives the blackmailer that money, it’ll disappear and he’ll still think I’m the one who stole his recipe. I can’t have that. Tim doesn’t understand. It’s easy for him to say stay out of it. It’s not his reputation on the line.”

  “Honey, you don’t have to preach to me. I know you better than anyone. If going against O’Hottie gets you where you need to be, I’m right there with you. Always. You know that.”

  This was friendship. Bury-the-body or, more appropriately, bury-the-secret friendship. Lucie held her breath a second, reminded herself that, despite her current predicament, most people didn’t have Ro—as wacky as she was—and the love that came with her.

  “I know you are,” Lucie said. “I love Tim, but he hasn’t lived this life with me. You have.”

  “You know it, sister. As crazy as I think you are, I see where you’re going with this. If you prove Molly is crooked, it helps your theory on her blackmailing her boo thang.”

  “Thank you. See, this is critical information to have.”

  “Yeah, but His Hotness is still going to kill you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A little after seven o’clock that night, Lucie stood on Tim’s front porch wondering whether to ring the bell or just use her key.

  Any other time she’d avoid standing in the cold and make no bones about walking right in. They were in love after all.

  Except, after the unrelated-to-the-weather chill factor that afternoon, she didn’t want to assume anything. Tim might not even want her there. Something she’d avoided confirming by failing to call and alert him of her visit.

  Why take that chance when she could just pop over, apologize for inducing near fatal blood pressure spikes, and hopefully—eh-hem—make it up to him?

  She’d learned the hard way that when dealing with Tim and apologies, sex wasn’t a bad option.

  This was what her life had come to. Emotional prostitution.

  Eh, there were worse things.

  She hit the buzzer and shoved her hands into her coat pockets while she waited. Thirty seconds in, Tim opened the door. He wore basketball shorts and a tank top that showed off his beefed-up biceps.

  His eyebrows hitched. “Why didn’t you use your key?”

  “You didn’t know I was coming. I thought…” Ooh, how to put this without making him mad again? She shrugged. “I thought you might still be mad at me.”

 
“And what? That means you can’t use your key?” He stepped back. “Get in here. And unless I tell you it’s not okay to use your key, use your key.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have to stop doing that.”

  A noise came from the second-floor landing. His nosey neighbor liked to open his door and listen in on conversations happening in the common area.

  Tim jerked his head. “Let’s go inside.”

  She followed him into his apartment and slid off her coat, laying it over the arm of the well-loved sofa his brother had given him. “What do I have to stop doing?”

  He faced her, crossing his arms. All she really wanted was for him to put those arms around her. Not this time.

  “If I’m mad, it doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Last I checked, we were in a relationship. People fight, Luce.”

  He was telling her that? With the crew she ran with? “I know. Of course I do. But our situation is different. Don’t you think?”

  “Because I’m a cop and you’re Joe Rizzo’s daughter.”

  Uh…yeah. “It makes me nervous. I love you and I never—ever— want you to suffer for that.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, every time you try to protect me, you make it worse.”

  Ouch. Had he really just said that? She squeezed her eyes closed and pondered the fact that men must have been born idiots. It was in their DNA. They couldn’t help it.

  Still, over the last few months, troubles plagued her. In each instance, she’d tried to avoid involving Tim. And forcing him to compromise his integrity. He should at least recognize that.

  “Give me credit for trying.”

  He cupped her cheeks with his big hands—finally—and the warmth of his palms penetrated her cold skin. “I do. Believe me. I know who you are. Kinda hard to miss that in this town. Luce, I went into this with my eyes wide open.”

  “But, in the beginning—”

  “Yeah. In the beginning I didn’t advertise who my girlfriend was. We agreed on that. Now? My boss knows. It’s out there. I’m not hiding it. These damned investigations of yours are killing me, though. When you go behind my back, I can’t help you and then I’m blindsided. That’s what puts me in a bad spot. Not your last name.”