Incognito

by Adrienne Giordano

  Tim made a low humming noise that sent Lucie’s libido into high gear. Florida. A most excellent place.

  “Not a chance,” Tim said. “I’m a one-woman man.”

  “Woohoo,” someone cooed. Lucie’s mind snapped back to Ro making one of her grand entrances. Please, God, no.

  Wait. It couldn’t be. First of all, this was Lucie and Tim’s vacation, a mere thirteen hundred miles from Chicago. Second, her BFF promised to supervise the business while Lucie took some downtime. And, Ro, being Ro, would never, ever go back on her word. Coco Barknell meant too much to both of them.

  “Woohooo!” The voice came again, deeper this time with more of a rasp than Ro’s.

  Not Ro.

  Henry’s eyes widened, the glow enough to light an entire room, and he shot from his chair, literally hopping up to see over the crowd.

  “Doll.” He waved.

  Tim’s head swiveled sideways, his eyebrows hiking nearly to his hairline. “Doll? My mother would kill herself.”

  “Ssshhh. He’s in love. Leave him alone.”

  He gave her a soft pat on the thigh. “I’m gonna start calling you doll.”

  Oh, no. No way. Babe? Fine. Honey? Even better. Doll? She’d skin him. “Not if you want to live, you won’t.”

  He snorted before angling back for his first peep at Uncle Henry’s beloved. His relaxed features transformed into the tight lines of his all-business cop face. “Holy crap.”

  Uh-oh.

  Following his lead, she turned. An older woman with deep auburn hair—really big auburn hair—and a face full of expertly applied makeup pushed through the crowd, smiling and waving. She squeezed between two couples, and Lucie caught the full brunt of the leopard print top that clung to her boobs, revealing a mountain of cleavage.

  No wonder Uncle Henry was beating men off. She looked like a cross between a high-end madam and a retired stripper.

  Poor Tim swung back, his jaw clenched hard enough to crack a few teeth.

  “Don’t say it,” she said.

  For a moment, his eyes bugged out. Then his mouth opened and hung there. “I’m…shit. You know what I’m thinking, right?”

  She sure did. Strutting toward them in second-skin white leggings and high-heeled sandals was Ro in twenty-five years.

  Lucie squeezed his arm. “Just relax. Take a breath or something.”

  “My mom will stab herself.” Tim lifted his hand, jabbed it toward his face. “Right in the eye.”

  “Stop.”

  “Holy crap,” he repeated as a bead of sweat dripped from him. Lucie handed him a cocktail napkin. Dab, dab, dab. He blotted the sweat bubbling on his forehead. “Luce, you have no idea. My aunt, his first wife? She was a saint. I mean, if she wore anything other than a turtleneck, she considered it improper. Covered from head to toe. We used to joke that she was a failed nun.”

  Before Mattie reached them, she was intercepted. She met Henry’s eye for a brief second, the apology evident as a couple pulled her into a brief conversation.

  “Mattie!” Another woman called.

  All around them, a chorus of “hellos” and “Matties” sounded.

  “She’s popular,” Lucie said.

  Uncle Henry peered down at her, a smile still lighting his face. “I told you. Everyone loves her. She’s the best.”

  After a day in the sun, Tim’s fair Irish skin had fallen victim to sunburn, but now the redness faded to a dull green. Between that and the sweating, Lucie put her hand against his cheek. Could he be sick? Maybe the crab cake sandwich at lunch?

  “Tim? Are you okay?”

  “I’m telling you,” he whispered, the words coming in hard punches. “She will stab herself.”

  Lucie peered up at a smiling Henry. “Well, she might have to adjust.”

  Three

  Mattie broke free of the crowd and rushed toward Henry, her boobs testing the precarious boundaries of her stretchy shirt.

  She reached her arms to Henry and folded him into Camp Cleavage. “Oh, my darling.”

  Having spent nearly a lifetime with Ro, Lucie recognized a woman’s ability to make the most of her assets. Ro usually popped a few extra buttons to make a man fall in line.

  Mattie wasn’t so subtle.

  She pulled back and held Henry’s arms. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” She let go of him, swung sideways, and—whoa—Lucie couldn’t stop staring at her damned boobs. It was like a train derailment. Terrifying, but absorbing at the same time. They were just so…there.

  “Hello,” Mattie said, holding her arms out. “You must be Tim and Lucie.”

  When Tim failed to respond—gobsmacked by the rack, no doubt—Lucie slid from her seat to greet the woman.

  “Hi, Mattie.” She stepped into Boobville, accepting a generous hug topped off with a little squeeze at the end.

  Okay. So maybe Mattie was a lot. Maybe a little more than a lot, but she gave great hugs.

  Lucie stepped back and spun to Tim. “Say hello to Mattie,” she chirped.

  When he didn’t move, she latched onto his arm and damn near pulled him to his feet.

  Come on, man, snap out of it. If it wouldn’t make a scene, she’d be tempted to pat his cheek. Knock some life into him.

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I was…”

  Mattie took a step, obviously intending on laying one of her awesome hugs on him.

  He made a strangling noise and Lucie considered running interference but was saved by a woman shoving between them.

  “Hello, Mattie,” the woman said. “Great crowd tonight. Love your blouse.”

  “Thank you, Lois. Are we still on for lunch next week?”

  Ah. This must be the famous Lois Weinstein, scoping out a spot so she could commandeer the table if they abandoned it.

  Not a chance, sister.

  “Of course,” Lois said to Mattie. “You pick the place.”

  “Doll,” Henry said. “take my seat.”

  “Thank you, Henry.”

  Henry slid to the empty chair he’d risked his life saving. “How was your day?”

  “Oh, it was fine. You know. Same old thing.” She waved at someone, then met Lucie’s gaze. “I’m a decorator. Well, not a real one—although, they call them interior designers now. I just help out in the community. I have an eye for these things.”

  Tim blinked. Had to be the leopard print tripping him up.

  “That’s wonderful,” Lucie said. “My friend, Roseanne, is the same way. Some people just seem to know when something works. I don’t have that gift. Ro constantly tells me to stop the madness.”

  Mattie let out a hoot and patted her hand against her heart, making her left boob jiggle. “I think I’d like this Roseanne.”

  Mid-gulp of his beer, Tim half-choked, half-gagged and spewed the sudsy brew. Lucie jumped up and smacked his back hard enough to dislodge a lung.

  “Are you all right?”

  He cleared his throat and held up a hand. “Wrong…” Cough, cough. “Pipe.” Cough, cough.

  He shook his head, exhaling a heavy breath. Poor guy. In Lucie’s nutty family, this wackiness happened on the daily. Tim? His peeps were normal.

  At least until Mattie came along and evened things out. Heh, heh, heh. Finally, a weakness revealed.

  Now, Tim understood, on a much smaller scale, the chaos one over-the-top person could create.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Mattie said. “You scared me.”

  Uncle Henry scooted his chair closer to Mattie. “Honey, are you okay?” He set one hand on her forehead, then moved it to her cheek. “Do you feel faint? Need some water?”

  Tim’s mouth dropped open. Here he was, nearly dying in front of them—well, that may have been an exaggeration, but still—and Henry was worried about Mattie.

  Making no bones about it, Tim lifted one hand and pretended to stab himself in the eye.

  “Oh.” Mattie pressed both hands to Uncle Henry’s cheeks. “You are the sweetest man. Always taking
care of me.” She dropped her hands, straightened her back so her boobs poked out a little more, and glanced at Lucie. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

  Lawdy, this woman. A lot. Between the big hair, the tight clothes, and the boobs, Lucie wasn’t sure where to look. And forget about Tim. He was gone. Completely fried. Lucie set one hand on his leg and squeezed. “Yes. Absolutely the sweetest. Well, next to Tim, of course.”

  Again Mattie hooted and something about that laugh, the tinkling edge of it that screamed manufactured, put Lucie on alert.

  In her lifetime, Lucie had seen a lot of women like Mattie. Ones who needed attention, any attention, from men and grappled for it however they could.

  A waitress swung by and Henry ordered another round of drinks for everyone. Including four waters. Just in case Mattie felt faint again.

  “Now,” Mattie said, “how was everyone’s day? Did you enjoy it?”

  Lucie nodded. “I know I did. Particularly because it snowed at home today.”

  “I remember those days. Freezing until June. I don’t miss it.”

  “Where are you from, Mattie?”

  “All over really. I lived in the northeast for a while and then headed south.” She looked beyond Tim. “There’s Eleanor. Eleanor!” She lifted her hand and waved. “Woohoo.”

  “Hi, Mattie,” the woman called back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

  “Looking forward to it. We’ll hit that little shop on the boulevard for some lamps.”

  Mattie came back to them. “I’m sorry about that. Eleanor is one of my clients. I’m working with her tomorrow. Her husband died—God rest his soul—six months ago and she wants to update the house. Give it a fresh look. Out with the old, in with the new.”

  A pained noise came from somewhere in Tim’s throat. All eyes moved to him.

  “Sorry.” He bumped the side of his fist into his chest. “Still got a little something stuck.”

  “Ooh, which reminds me.” She ran a hand down Henry’s arm, stroking gently. “Darling, would you be able to feed and walk Aphrodite tomorrow? You know how she gets if her schedule is interrupted.”

  Aphrodite?

  “You know I will. Anything for you.”

  While Uncle Henry and Mattie made gag-worthy extended eye contact, Tim leaned over, kissed Lucie’s cheek, and whispered. “Forget the eye-stab. My mom will kill herself. Bullet. Right to the head. Bang.”

  “Thank you, honey,” Mattie said. “You’re just so sweet.”

  Tim cleared his throat again. “So, Mattie. Aphrodite is your dog?”

  “Yes. She’s a sweetheart. Henry helps with her when I have to be out of the house for an extended time.”

  Excellent. A nice, generic topic to explore.

  “It’s good that you have help,” Lucie said. “Dogs can be fussy about their routine. My company provides dog walking and the scheduling is serious business.”

  “Lucie loves the dogs,” Tim said.

  “Well, most of them. I do have my favorites I guess.”

  “Otis,” Tim said. “The Ninja Bitches.”

  Mattie’s eyes widened. “The what?”

  Lucie laughed. “That’s not their real name. They’re Shih Tzus. Short on stature and big on attitude. They like Tim, though. They flirted with him the first time they met him.”

  Lucie thought back to a year ago when a rash of dognappings had plagued her clients. That was the first time she’d met Detective Tim O’Brien. Back then she’d had no idea she’d fall in love with an Irish cop.

  Tim ripped off a big smile. “What can I say? I have a way with women.”

  “How adorable,” Mattie cooed.

  Lucie had described Tim in many ways over the months.

  Alpha.

  Patient.

  In-charge.

  Adorable? Not so much. He’d hate that. Would more than likely rail about it all night.

  On cue, he hopped out of his chair. “Excuse me.”

  Henry eyed him. “Where you going?”

  “Restroom,” he said.

  “Didn’t you just go when we walked in?”

  Uh-oh.

  Lucie jumped in. “He drank a lot of water today. Hydration. It’s good for you.”

  “With my prostate? Please.”

  Another strangled noise shot from Tim’s throat. This must be the cross street between Tim’s version of sane and not.

  Being accustomed to lunatics, Lucie had no issues holding up the conversation in Tim’s absence. “Henry, if you’d like, I’d be happy to help with Aphrodite tomorrow. If Mattie doesn’t mind, that is.”

  “A professional dog walker? I’d never mind that.”

  “But you’re on vacation,” Uncle Henry said.

  “Yes, but I miss walking the dogs. I’m in the office most days now so I don’t get to see my buddies much. I miss out on all the love. Besides, I think Tim is planning on sitting by the pool tomorrow before you take us sightseeing again. He wants to relax a bit.”

  Uncle Henry met Mattie’s gaze, then faced Lucie. “Sure. If you want. Maybe you can give me some tips.”

  No sooner than Lucie closed the bedroom door did Tim point his finger at it. “That woman is not right for him.”

  Talk about a switch with her being the one talking him down. Heh. What a trip. One she shouldn’t be taking pleasure in, but…oh well.

  He paced the small area beside the queen-sized bed before continuing his rant. “And I didn’t like the way she deflected the question about where she was from. She made it vague by saying northeast and then changed the subject by saying hello to that Eleanor woman. And she called me adorable. Adorable? Really?”

  Could he say it any louder? Lucie snapped her fingers. “Tchchch. Pipe down. Henry’s right down the hall.”

  This was starting to not be as fun as she thought. It took so much energy to be the calm, rational one.

  Exhausted, she dropped onto the bed and kicked her shoes off. “You might be a wee bit overprotective. She’s a nice woman. A little loud and…bold, maybe, but she seems crazy about Henry.”

  Tim stopped pacing, just halted mid-lap, propped his hands on his hips, and speared her with a look. “She’s—”

  Lucie snapped her hand up and put her finger to her lips. How many times would she have to tell him to be quiet? “Keep it down, fella.”

  Her cutie-pie detective drew a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled long and slow.

  “There you go,” she said. “Nice and easy. In and out.”

  “Right. Sorry. I don’t get it though. Totally not his type.”

  His type. Lucie never bought into people having one. What the heck did that even mean? Just because one person didn’t look like the other, didn’t mean they weren’t compatible. “Maybe that’s the point.”

  When Tim gave her the WTF face, she sighed. “I get you’re concerned about your uncle. I love that about you. But he’s a grown man. Maybe he’s looking for a little…excitement.”

  “Ha. That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Yes. You said Mattie is the complete opposite of who your aunt was.”

  “Totally.”

  “Okay. Think about it, Tim. He’s a widower. If he loved your aunt with everything he had, that loss devastated him. His wife would be irreplaceable and being with someone like her would create too many painful memories. Going for someone different might not hurt as much.”

  Part of this came from experience. Frankie was still very much alive, but he and Tim couldn’t be more different. With Tim everything was new, fun, and easy. Other than his fierce protective instincts, there were no similarities. It freed her from making unfair comparisons.

  The corner of Tim’s mouth lifted into a half-scowl. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “You can thank me later.”

  “I’ll do that. But, I’m telling you, my mom will go apeshit. She’ll take one look at Mattie and think she’s a gold digger.”

  A familiar tension streamed down Lucie’s neck.
This was the other thing that made her crazy. All her life, she’d been judged because of her father. As if she was incapable of living a legitimate life. “Well, it’s not up to your mom, is it?”

  “Try telling her that.”

  Good point. And Lucie couldn’t really fault her for being concerned about her brother’s emotional well-being.

  “All right, well, let’s give this the Joe Rizzo approach.”

  Tim gawked. “You want me to kill her?”

  Hardy-har. “You’re charged up right now, so I’ll forgive you for that crack. For all his faults, my dad has a way of assessing one’s character.”

  Prison and her father’s choice of occupation, something Lucie still hadn’t found a way to accept, had blessed him with an uncanny ability to size people up.

  Give him two minutes with Mattie and he’d profile her better than any FBI agent. He’d also have the cops on his payroll run a background check. All in a day’s work for the man.

  “I believe that,” Tim said. “When you spend time around the people your dad does, it heightens your senses. I’m a cop. I get that. That’s why I don’t like her avoiding the details on where she’s from. She could be a con-artist jumping from retiree to retiree and cleaning out their back accounts.”

  “You’re really worried about this.”

  “Hell, yes. I may be paranoid, but I’ve seen enough situations with seniors getting ripped off that my Spidey-sense is firing.”

  Worn out from the day, she lifted a hand then let it drop against the bed. “Well, do what my dad does and dig up information on her. Then you’ll know.”

  Four

  The next morning, Lucie left Tim at Henry’s kitchen table with a fresh pot of coffee and his cell phone. No doubt, by the time she returned, he’d have a full work-up on Matilda Mournay.

  Outside, she followed Henry to the driveway, lagging behind to enjoy a few seconds of sunshine. He veered around his Lexus to a four-seater golf cart.

  “Hop in,” he said. “Mattie’s place is about half a mile. Sometimes I walk, but I’m tired today. Too much Tiki Night for an old man.”