Another one. Terrific. “Ha! It’s not about me. Molly is the one. She has Antoine’s recipe behind her bookcase.”
Molly did that head-snapping thing again. What an actress. “What recipe?”
Lucie ignored her and focused on Annalise. Naturally, the assistant’s loyalties would be to her boss, but Lucie and Annalise had a lot in common. In an odd way, they’d bonded over their brief meeting the other day. They understood each other.
“Annalise, she’s setting me up. Look behind the bookcase. The recipe is taped there. And this guy,” Lucie jerked her thumb at Beanie Boy, “just picked up the money at the ransom drop. At first, I thought Reuben was the blackmailer.”
Molly’s mouth dropped open. “This is so bizarre. Reuben? Why would you think that? He’s the most decent person I know.”
“Well, because he’s mad at Antoine.”
“How do you know that?”
Whoopsie. Perhaps Lucie should learn to control her mouth or she’d wind up copping to hacking into Antoine’s email.
“There is no recipe behind my bookcase,” Molly continued. “I’m the one concerned about hard copies in Antoine’s safe. I certainly wouldn’t keep one behind my office furniture.”
Annalise perked up. “I’m not sure what Lucie is talking about, but it seems to me there’s one way to figure it out.” She spun on her low heels and strode to Molly’s office. “Let’s look behind the bookcase. When there’s nothing there, we’ll know Lucie is lying.”
Oh, these women. Lucie curled her fingers into tight fists, ready to pummel something. Calm. She needed to remain calm. Tim would be here any second.
She’d be fine.
Just fine.
She opened her hands, stretched her fingers, then pointed. “Unless Molly moved it, it’s back there.”
“And you know this how?”
Oh, boy. “I’m not at liberty to say. But it’s there. Trust me.”
Trust me? That was a dumb thing to say. Clearly, they didn’t trust her if they thought she blackmailed their client. Whatever. After this episode, she might need psychotherapy. At the very least, anger management after she went crazy on these people for accusing her of being a thief.
Annalise marched into the office followed by Molly. Lucie started walking. Beanie Boy gripped her elbow tighter and she tugged away. “Get off me. I’m going to watch Annalise pull that recipe from behind Molly’s bookcase. After what this woman has put me through, I’m not risking her hiding anything.”
Molly handed Annalise a flashlight so she could see behind the giant bookcase.
Lucie pointed. “It’s closer to the window.”
Molly shook her head. “Believe me. There’s nothing back there.”
“Um, Molly,” Annalise said. “There’s something back there.”
Tim stood at the side of Molly Jacardi’s building huddled with Team Rizzo. Team Rizzo and the dogs. One of the Ninja Bitches squatted and took a dump that no dog that small should be able to accomplish.
Lucie’s mom stared down at the pile, frowning. “I might as well clean this up. It’ll give me something to do.” She slid a poop bag from the holder on the leash. “Good girl, Josie. Lucie would be proud.”
What a cluster.
The first cruiser pulled to the curb and, hearing the tick of the engine, Tim turned.
“Great,” Joe Sr. said. “Cops.”
Mrs. Rizzo finished with the poop, tied a knot at the end of the bag, and swung it at her husband. “You shush! Our girl is in there. I don’t care who gets her out as long as she gets out.”
Before the shit went flying—literally—Tim held up his hands. “Please. Stay calm. I’m gonna talk to these guys. All of you stay here.” He met the eye of each of them, then focused on Joey. Out of this bunch, the only one Tim thought had a remote shot at staying calm was Joey. Go figure. Biggest hothead around, but he had a strategic mind.
“I’m on it,” Joey said. “Go.”
“Thank you.” Tim held out his hands. “I need the radios. All of them.”
Mrs. R’s eyes went wide. “Absolutely not. I need to know what’s going on in there.”
Precisely why he wanted the radios back. He’d seen enough of these situations to know they could go bad fast. And he’d didn’t want Lucie’s family, her very high-strung and reactive family, listening if—or when—it did.
Bad enough he had to listen to the woman he loved being held hostage. Her parents? Not a chance.
He met Joey’s eye again. Come on, Joey. Think.
Joey reached up, unhooked his earpiece, then held out his hands. “Everyone, fork ‘em over. Tim’s right.”
A trio of voices merged, all of them offering up reasons why they should be allowed to keep the radios. Finally, Joey whistled, the sound ear-splitting enough to send the dogs into a barking frenzy.
Tim didn’t know what it was with the Rizzos, but they created chaos. Always.
“Gang,” Tim said, “we’re wasting time here. SWAT is on the way. Right now, these radios are our only communication with her. SWAT should have them. For Lucie’s safety.”
Joey, still holding his hands out, jerked his chin at Ro and his parents. “Hand ‘em over. Right now.”
Each of them tugged their earpieces free, grumbling over the injustice. In seconds, Tim had confiscated all the devices and shoved them in his jacket pockets.
“Telling you right now,” Joe Sr. said, “If I don’t like the way this looks, I’m goin’ in there. These cops can shoot me if they want. I don’t care.”
“Understood.”
Tim jogged over to the police cruiser and flashed his badge. Two cops hopped out just as the second cruiser swung around the corner, parking in the fire zone Ro had utilized the other day.
“I called it in,” Tim said. “My girlfriend, Lucie Rizzo, is being held inside. So far, it’s been non-violent.”
The cop used his hand to block the sun as he studied the building. “Give me the particulars.”
Did this guy have ten years?
Before Tim could launch into an explanation, another unmarked and thoroughly beat up Chevy pulled up, squeezing into the fire zone behind the cruiser. A stocky guy with short, graying hair slid out. He wore gray dress slacks that bagged at the ankles and a faded oxford shirt under a long wool coat. He approached Tim and the uniformed cop.
Not wanting to waste time, Tim held up his badge. “Tim O’Brien.”
The guy studied his creds then held up his own badge. “Curt King. I’m the negotiator.”
“You got here fast.”
“Yeah. I was only a couple of blocks away.” He faced the uniformed officers. “Set up a perimeter while we’re waiting on SWAT. Someone take the back of the building. Make sure no one flees.”
Orders delivered, the uniformed cops marched off. Curt studied the office building, doing a visual sweep of the front. “What have we got here?”
Tim spent a few minutes bringing the negotiator up to speed, stopping to answer questions when needed and providing the need-to-know facts. Some of the ancillary facts—like Joey impersonating a cable guy—Curt didn’t need.
When Tim was through, Curt let out a long breath. “Does your lieutenant know you’re involved in this?”
Tim shook his head. “No. I took a personal day. Was hoping to keep it quiet. In my own defense, I urged the chef to call the police. He didn’t want law enforcement involved. The only reason I’m involved is Lucie.”
“Love is a many splendored thing.”
“Amen, brother.”
“Awright.” Curt gestured to the building with his pen. “They’re all inside?”
“Yes.”
Curt checked his notes. “And this is Molly Jacardi’s office?”
“Yeah. Normally there’s a receptionist at the desk. According to what we heard on the radio, she’s not there. So far, we have Jacardi, her assistant, Annalise, and the guy that shoved Lucie into the car.”
“Do we know who he is?”
&
nbsp; “Not a clue. Not even a name.”
“Okay. Lucie still has the radio?”
“Yeah.” Tim reached into his pockets for the devices “Here. There’s four of them. Earpieces and the mics.”
Curt rolled his bottom lip. “Pretty slick.”
“We went with the easily concealable ones. Buddy of mine had them.”
“This is good.” He shoved one of the earpieces into his ear and spoke into the mic. “Lucie? This is Lieutenant Curt King of the Chicago Police Department. Can you hear me? If so, clear your throat.”
Lucie cleared her throat. “Good. We’re going to get you out. Try and stay calm. Is everyone all right? If so, clear your throat.”
Another throat clearing.
Hearing her signal, the churning in Tim’s belly settled. He let out a long breath, realizing that yes, despite his normally stressful job, being personally involved took more energy to wrap his mind around. To control his emotions.
“Good.” Curt said. “In a few minutes, I’m going to attempt to make contact and resolve this quickly. Stay calm. We’re here for you.”
Curt clicked off and headed back toward his car. “I’m gonna call the landline and see if they’ll answer.”
“Whoa!” One of the cops yelled from somewhere behind Tim. “You can’t go in there!”
Tim whirled around and…shit. Team Rizzo was on the move. Lucie’s father led the charge, followed by Joey—the one Tim counted on. Trailing behind were Ro and Mrs. Rizzo, both holding leashes. Every one of them—dogs included—hustling along the sidewalk.
Toward the office’s main entrance.
Tim broke into a run, his feet pounding the pavement hard enough to send tiny shocks up his legs.
“Joe! Stop!”
Damn it. He wouldn’t get there in time. They had too much of a jump on him. One of the cops made an attempt to intercede. Joey halted, sidestepped out of formation, making himself a human wall. Boom! The cop plowed into the mountain known as Joe Rizzo Jr., his arms cycling as he landed flat on his ass.
“Joey,” Tim called, “stop them. Don’t!” Joe Sr., reached the door, swung it open, and—crap—stepped through.
One by one, each of them hustled through the door while Tim stood there helplessly.
Go in.
No. Stupid idea. As much as he’d love to bust in and settle this whole thing, going in meant giving Molly Jacardi more leverage.
Thirty seconds ago she had one hostage.
Now she had five.
And three dogs.
Chapter Fourteen
“Of course there’s something back there,” Lucie said as Anna worked her rail thin arm behind the bookcase.
Unfortunately, Lucie couldn’t elaborate on why she was so positive. But she’d seen it herself via Joey’s spy glasses.
Anna squished the side of her face against the bookcase. “I’ve…almost…got…it.”
The idiot who’d abducted Lucie stood by while Annalise struggled. Lucie turned and swatted his arm. “Hey, how about helping her? Move the bookcase.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Molly said.
Right. That’s what they all said. Lucie had heard it a million times. Sometimes from her own family.
“Baby girl!”
Dad? What the…
Lucie angled to the door, staring at the empty space, dumbfounded. Lucie’s crack kidnappers hadn’t locked the front door.
“Dad?”
Before Lucie could move, her family piled into the office, each falling in behind, one right after the other. Dad, Joey, Ro, and Mom.
Otis and the Ninja Bitches.
Lucie gasped. How would she explain this one to Mrs. L and the Bernards? She flapped her arms. “Are you crazy bringing those dogs in here? This is a hostage situation.”
“Got it,” Annalise said.
She eased her arm from behind the bookcase and held up the envelope Joey had found.
All eyes went to Molly. She stood stock still, her gaze glued to that envelope. A few seconds in, as if the situation had finally broken through, her mouth slid open. “That is not mine. I have no idea what it is.”
“That’s easy,” Joey said. “It’s the recipe you tried to frame my sister with.”
“Nobody move.”
Tim’s voice. Now he was in here? Once again, Lucie angled back. Her man stood in the doorway, his gun drawn.
“Whoa,” Beanie Boy said. “I didn’t sign up for guns.”
Lucie waved at the envelope in Annalise’s hand. “That’s the recipe. Annalise just dug it out.”
“I didn’t put that there,” Molly cried. “Why would I do that? Antoine’s my client. I made ten million last year on that recipe. It’s worth more as a secret. Why would I risk that for a measly, one-time two million dollars?”
A measly two million? Rich people. Unbelievable.
But…huh. She had a point. Anyone with half a brain could see that.
“Chicago PD! We’re coming in.”
Tim poked his head out the door. “We’re in here, Curt.”
Ah, the hostage negotiator who’d introduced himself to Lucie a few minutes ago. Good. Maybe he could get to the bottom of this.
“We should call Antoine,” Anna said. “He needs to know about this. About Molly blackmailing him.”
“I didn’t!”
At Molly’s tone, the Ninja Bitches stood. Both their tails were up. Hyper-alert. Lucie had seen this before when one of them felt threatened.
Fannie let out a low growl.
Lucie shifted closer to Mom, casually taking the leash before the girls went crazy on Molly and took off a leg.
“It’s all right, girls. She’s not yelling at you. Don’t get crazy.”
“This is ridiculous.” Molly walked to the phone. “I’ll call Antoine myself.”
“Put the phone down,” the lieutenant said.
A heated stare down ensued. At least until the lieutenant pulled out a set of handcuffs.
Molly slammed the phone down, the thwack splitting the tension like a log. The girls lunged and let out three rapid-fire barks. Otis, taking his cue, hopped to his feet, bumping Ro with all of his eighty-five pounds. He knocked her sideways and she wobbled on her stilettos. Her walking shoes.
On her way to the floor, Ro bumped Mom, whose motherly instinct flared. She reached for Ro, but Ro, with too much momentum dragged them both down. Lucie dropped the leash and lunged for her mother.
Which only intensified the girls’ reaction. They took off, straight to Molly, with Otis joining the effort. All three of them charged as Ro hit the ground.
“Otis, girls, no!”
Molly put her arms up and the girls skidded to a stop, but…uh-oh. Too late.
Boom. Otis leaped and barreled into her. She tipped backward, slamming into the side of her desk before toppling over and landing on her stomach. Otis jumped on her back and Molly let out a grunt.
The big boy stood, head up, pinning Molly to the ground. He stared at Lucie with look-what-I-did pride on full display.
Ro slammed her hand on the floor. “These damned dogs. I’m definitely going to have a bruise.” Joey helped her to her feet.
Curt shot Tim a look. “Is this normal?”
Ha. The good lieutenant had no idea.
“This?” Tim said casually. “This is a cakewalk.”
Wait. Lucie spun around, scanned everyone still in the office. “Where’s Beanie Boy?”
Tim was already in motion when Annalise’s shoulders flew back. Her gaze shot to the door. “He still has the money. Get him!”
“I’ve got the front,” Tim said. “Take the back.”
Curt went right toward the back door and everyone filed out, half the group chasing Tim and the other half Curt.
At the front door, Lucie stopped short.
The recipe. Annalise still had it and Lucie didn’t want it disappearing. Not when she’d been suspected of stealing it.
She turned, spotted Molly, Joey
and Ro going out the back door.
No Anna. And she hadn’t been with the group following Tim.
Wait.
One.
Second.
Lucie tip-toed back to Molly’s office. No Anna. A quiet charge lit the air, making Lucie’s skin itch. She hovered close to the wall, moving to the next office. Annalise’s. The door was open. Lucie halted just outside. Listening.
The sound of rustling paper drifted to the hallway. Why was Anna standing around when everyone else went after the money? What would be so important that she’d let a man run off with her client’s two million dollars?
Unless…
Did Anna already know what the outcome would be?
A weird sickness filled Lucie. All this time, they’d been focusing on Molly when Annalise had also been at Antoine’s that day.
Oh, no.
Wait, wait, wait.
Lucie would not do this. All her life she’d been fighting assumptions about her character. One thing she would not do was judge Annalise. Not when she didn’t have proof.
Get the proof.
She pushed off the wall with a quick half spin, planted her hands on the doorframe, and blocked the exit. Annalise stood at her desk, recipe card in hand, the envelope nowhere to be seen.
On the desk sat a briefcase with Anna’s coat haphazardly thrown over it. Was she ready to leave? To take off? Vamoose.
Anna brought her gaze up. Their eyes locked. The only sound was the whir of the ceiling fan that stirred the thick air.
Finally, Anna nodded. “Lucie, hi. I thought you ran out with the others.”
I bet you did.
“I started to. Then I realized I didn’t see you. I wondered where you were.”
Anna glanced at the recipe card still in her hand then held it up. “I was afraid something would happen to the recipe. I wanted to make sure it got back to Antoine.”
Sure she did. Damn it. All this time, they’d suspected Molly when it could have been Anna.
Or both.
“Did you now?”
Anna cocked her head. “Of course. He’s my client. I’d do anything for him.”
“Because you’re the responsible one, right?”
Now it all started to make sense. Lucie tightened her grip on the doorframe. Anna wasn’t leaving until Lucie knew the truth.
Dog Collar Cuisine (A Lucie Rizzo Mystery Book 5) Page 18
