Lucie glanced up at Tim. “Spurned friend. Would he be mad enough for blackmail?”
“Maybe.” Tim, in full detective mode, waggled a finger at the screen. “Print copies of all these. Please.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
“What about the IP address the ransom note was sent from?”
“Working on it. This particular provider hides the IP address. It’s a privacy thing. I’ll need some time.”
“Fine. Keep at it. And see if you can find anything about the name on the account.”
Untitled
The following morning, Lucie sat at her desk enjoying the blissful quiet while Ro attended a meeting at their largest client.
Lucie adored Ro. Loved her beyond measure. Some mornings though, particularly after being accused of theft and blackmail, Lucie needed a drama-free zone. The minute Ro entered a room she brought a storm of energy with her. Sometimes it was too much.
Yes, time alone. Away from Hurricane Ro, away from Villa Rizzo and her father’s daily questions about her life and business and whatever else entered his mind at 7:00 AM.
Lucie sat back, closed her eyes for a few seconds, taking in the hiss of the ancient radiator. When she was ten, her mom had brought her into this very shop for school shoes, and Lucie tripped on the rug and went head first into that radiator.
Joey still teased her about it.
And here she still was. Only, this time, the business—along with its reputation—belonged to her.
Leads. She needed to get back to researching the firefighters. And that friend of Antoine’s who’d been snubbed from the party. Something about that nagged her.
An out-of-work chef probably needed money. Could he be angry enough to resort to blackmail? Over a party?
Who knew? Crazier things had happened in the world of Lucie Rizzo.
Her phone rang and she sat forward, checking the number. Dean, hacker/degenerate gambler.
“Hi, Dean. Please tell me you have news.”
“Sort of. Your boyfriend, he’s a cop, isn’t he? He sounds like a cop. That’s not good.”
Certain information, Dean didn’t need. More to protect Tim than anything. From the start of their relationship, Lucie had refused to put Tim’s career in jeopardy.
“Tim’s occupation doesn’t matter. He’s a safe zone,” she said. Dean’s silence lingered for a few seconds. “Dean, keep in mind we had a deal.”
New career. Passive aggressive leg-breaking.
“I’m aware,” he said. “Just clarifying what I suspected.”
“Noted. What do you have for me?”
“I think the account the blackmailer sent that email from is fake. That’s what I’d do. It’s most likely a dead end.”
Thanks for that cheery news. “Okay.”
“But there are several emails between Antoine and the angry chef. Antoine should choose his friends more carefully. This one’s a complete ass.”
“How so?”
“The friend is being sued. He was supposed to cater a wedding for an executive on the Gold Coast. The family rented a winery for an entire weekend and hired the chef for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.”
That had to be a decent paying gig. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t say, but it looks like he never showed. He’s being sued for breach of contract.”
Whoa. Lucie sat back, staring at the garment rack loaded with samples behind Ro’s desk. “So, not only is he unemployed, he’s being sued. He needs money.”
Given that lawsuits were made public, Lucie jotted a quick note to search online for the filing papers. “Does it say how much he’s being sued for?”
“No. It’d be easy enough to find, though.”
“I’ll look into that. Thank you.”
The doggie bells jangled. Lucie looked over and—holy cannoli—in walked Molly Jacardi, Antoine’s girlfriend and manager.
What the heck would she be doing here? Molly nodded, but hovered in the doorway.
“Um, Dean, someone just walked in. Thank you for this information. Please keep me updated.”
Lucie disconnected, then turned her attention to Molly. Under a long black coat, she wore black slacks and a white silk blouse with what looked like three long silver necklaces, all artfully layered around her neck. Edgy, yet elegant.
“Hi,” Lucie croaked. Damn it. What did she have to be nervous about? She’d done nothing wrong. Still, Molly’s visit—her first visit—to Coco Barknell after her client’s world famous recipe had been stolen didn’t bode well.
Lucie motioned to one of her guest chairs. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” The all-business voice.
Molly left her coat on, smoothing it under her legs as she sat, and casually hung her arms over the armrests.
Lucie’s stomach flipped.
Something about Molly’s crisp tone and relaxed body language, a cobra about to strike, set Lucie on edge. But, heck, she was Joe Rizzo’s kid. She wouldn’t be bullied.
“What can I help you with?”
“You know I’m a lawyer as well as Antoine’s manager.”
“I’m aware.”
Molly glanced around the room, taking it all in, a small, condescending smile playing on her lips. “You understand that unless Antoine’s recipe is returned, preferably today, I will have no problem putting you out of business. I will bring a media storm down on you that will make your little business crumble. You’ll be lucky if you don’t wind up in a jail cell. Of course, that’s nothing new in your world, is it?”
Oh, this witch.
Lucie sat forward, meeting Molly’s gaze. “There’s one problem with your plan. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Last week you were late picking up Brie for her walk and she peed on a $30,000 rug. Destroyed it. The public relations aspect would be epic. How many of your wealthy clients would want to risk their beloved pet soiling expensive furniture?”
Evil! Her mother’s voice echoed in her ear, reminding her that Rizzos stayed strong. We don’t sweat. Trial after trial, the mantra stayed strong. “We were five minutes late due to a traffic accident on the next block. You think your media blitz will pummel us under those circumstances? In Chicago, where it takes twenty minutes to circle a block? I doubt it.” Lucie drove her finger into her desktop. “I don’t like you coming in here, insulting me or my family. I told Antoine and I’m telling you, I don’t have that recipe. Plenty of people had access to that office after I left.”
“But you were right there. All you’d need to do is snatch it from the safe.”
“Which I didn’t. And if you continue with this slander, I’ll be forced to take legal action. Which, hmmm…” Lucie tapped her finger against her lips. “I recall Antoine saying he wanted to keep this out of the press. A slander lawsuit against the famous Chef Antoine would bring all sorts of questions, don’t you think?”
Molly laughed. A genuine from-the-gut laugh reminiscent of the bad sixties horror movies Joey got a kick out of watching.
The door swung open, sending the doggie bells flying as Dad strode in for the first of his minimum six daily visits.
“Baby girl.” He focused on her then stopped short, apparently seeing something he didn’t like.
Lucie forced a smile, but her father was no slouch when it came to reading people. When it came to his children? Total ace.
“Hi, Dad.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. This is Molly Jacardi. We were actually just finishing up.” Lucie turned her faux-cheery smile on Molly. “So good to see you. Thanks for coming by.”
The not-so-subtle hint booted Molly out of the chair, her head high as if they’d just shared a lovely chat. Dad turned back and held the door open for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You better not have been harassing my daughter.”
Molly kept walking, distancing herself from the Joe Rizzo. So much for her threats. Everyone was all tough, insulting talk unt
il they came face-to-face with the man himself.
Unbelievable.
Dad closed the door and jerked his thumb. “I don’t like her. She’s a looker, but it’s a hard pretty. Baby girl, you can’t trust hard pretty.”
“She’s an entertainment manager. She works for Chef Antoine.”
“The recipe guy? The one who accused you of stealing?”
“Yes.”
“Why was she here?”
The day after Lucie’s twelfth birthday she’d lied to her father. Well, she’d attempted to lie. He suspected the lie and drilled her with a look that shattered her like Humpty Dumpty falling off his wall. After that, she’d never attempted to lie again, opting for truth and whatever consequences came her way.
“Well, Dad, she wanted to let me know that if I didn’t return the recipe, they’d destroy my business.”
“Again with that damned recipe?” Her father waved his hands. “That’s it. I’m talking to this bum. We’ll straighten this out.”
That’s all she needed. “Dad, no. I took care of it.”
“How?”
She stood, walked to her father, and slung her arm through his. “Thank you for wanting to help. I may not deal with problems the same way you do, but I’m also Joe Rizzo’s kid. I won’t let anyone destroy my business without a fight.”
Untitled
“That bitch.”
Ro slammed her hand against Lucie’s desk and somehow her whole body shook. Boobs jiggled, hips swayed, head bobbed, all of it happening at once.
If Lucie had a nickel for every time Ro called someone a bitch, they wouldn’t have to worry about expenses.
No sooner had Lucie gotten Dad settled down and installed back at Petey’s, the luncheonette that doubled as his office, than Ro returned, submerging Lucie into another round of rage control.
Hoping to halt the impending tirade, Lucie put her hands up. “Calm down before we have to put you in traction.”
Ro flipped her hair over her shoulder, sending the long strands flying. Not a lot of people did haughty outrage on Ro’s level.
“I wish I’d been here when all this went down. I haven’t given anyone, aside from your idiot brother, a good piece of my mind in a long time. I have enough pent-up rage that I could do some damage.”
Good to know.
An email dinged on Lucie’s laptop and she forced herself not to look. Almost 11:00 and she hadn’t crossed one thing from her daily to-do list. After the time spent chasing leads yesterday, this made two days’ worth of tasks the president and CEO of Coco Barknell had fallen behind on.
Who had time to be accused of blackmail?
“This whole thing is crazy,” Lucie said. “Am I the biggest magnet for bad luck there is?”
“Absolutely.”
“Um, rhetorical question. But, hey, thanks for your honesty.”
“Anytime.” Ro speared a finger in the air. “Enough with the nonsense. What are we doing about this bitch? Do you want me to handle it?”
Uh, no. After Ro’s most recent skirmish with the legal system due to the death of a reality star, Lucie didn’t want her anywhere near Molly.
She pushed out of her chair, grabbed the file with her case notes, then crossed to Ro’s desk, smacking the file down. “My notes on the case. All the leads and the latest from Dean the hacker.”
Using her nail, Ro swept the folder open and perused Lucie’s notes. “Ooh, this friend of Antoine’s looks promising.”
“Yes. Reuben LeBeau. I was about to start researching the lawsuit when Molly walked in. We need to know how much he’s being sued for, who brought the suit, and what the status is. My thought is Antoine’s friend, who happens to be out of work, needs fast cash.”
Ro smacked her hand again. “Yes. Add that to him being upset over the lack of party invite and we may have a blackmailer.”
Could it be that easy? “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why?”
“Would this guy be dumb enough to blackmail Antoine after admitting his troubles with finding work, a pending lawsuit and being mad over the party slight?”
“Why not? Where we come from, we’ve seen dumber criminals.”
Lucie shrugged. “I agree, but I’m not sure I’m buying it. It’s a lead and we should follow it. Would you look into that for me?”
“Where are you going?”
“I, my friend, am going to Molly’s office.”
Ro gasped. “Without me? You are no fun at all.”
“Sorry, but this is a solo mission.”
“Why?”
“Anna.”
“The blonde? I hate how skinny she is. I used to be that skinny. Then I started dating your brother and your mother killed me with coffee cake. At least when I was getting divorced, I was thin.”
“And miserable.”
“Sacrifices, Luce. That’s all.”
Good old Ro. Always with the priorities. “Anna has been our main contact for Antoine’s business. She handled getting the dog walking paperwork in order and tracking down that missing invoice for us.”
“So?”
“So, maybe Anna can convince her boss that accusing innocent people of theft isn’t exactly playing nice.”
“What if she won’t help?”
“Then we go to the mattresses.”
Ro threw her hands up. “Yay. I love the mattresses.”
Using her finely honed detective skills, Lucie sat in her car observing the comings and goings at Molly’s office. She checked the time on her phone. 11:45. With any luck, Molly would head out. Antoine had once mentioned Molly spent her lunch hours at the yoga studio down the street. Stress reduction, she called it.
Whatever. As long as she got the heck out so Lucie could speak to Annalise without being interrupted.
At 11:50, the office door swung open and out came Molly, dressed in yoga pants, sneakers, and a long winter coat.
Heh, heh, heh.
Lucie waited for her to walk to the corner and turn right, out of view. Even then, she waited another two minutes. Just to be sure.
Go time.
She strode into the office, expecting Molly’s chipper receptionist.
Empty desk. She turned and peeked at the small waiting area and the unoccupied leather loveseat. A glass coffee table held three oversized books. One was Antoine’s cookbook and the other two were photography books. Probably another client.
“Hello?” Lucie called.
Anna stepped into the hallway, spotted Lucie, and her mouth dipped into a frown. She paused, then cocked her head. “Lucie. Hi. Sorry. The receptionist is at lunch. I didn’t hear you come in. Um, Molly isn’t here.”
Exactly my plan. “That’s okay. I’m actually here to see you.”
“Oh. Was there a problem with the invoice again?”
“No. That’s all set. This is about Antoine and the missing recipe.”
Anna clasped her hands in front of her, snuck a glance at her office, and pondered it for a long few seconds. Lucie’s pulse hammered. Would she even be invited in?
Anna finally moved from her spot, walking toward Lucie.
No invitation to come inside. Fine. They’d do this standing in the entry.
“Of course,” Anna said. “I’m not sure what I can do, though. You really should talk to Molly.”
Anna stepped around her and marched toward the door, swinging in open. Oh, if only it were that easy to get rid of a Rizzo. The FBI had learned that the hard way.
Lucie eyed the door, then Anna, sending the clear message she wasn’t quite ready to leave. “I spoke to Molly this morning. She came to see me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She threatened to sue me. To tank my business.”
Anna released the door, her fingers springing open as if they’d been singed. She let out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry. Molly can be…tough.”
No kidding. “I don’t mind tough. But if she tries to ruin my reputation, I won’t simply let it happen. I’ll sue her for sl
ander.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“I did.”
“That had to be an interesting conversation.”
“It didn’t end well.” Lucie held out her hands. “Anna, we’ve always had a good working relationship. I feel horrible asking you this, but would you mind talking to her?”
Anna screwed up her face and her head shifted slowly. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Losing her. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s in all of our interests for her to be reasonable. This will be resolved and when I’m cleared, I’d like us all to still have some sort of relationship. I’d be happy to help Antoine figure out who is behind this, but I’m not about to do that if Molly insists on slandering me or my business.”
“Lawsuits won’t help any of us.”
“Exactly. Will you talk to her?”
Anna shook her head again, this time only once. Maybe there was hope here. She wasn’t happy. Lucie saw that much in the hard line of her mouth. “Please, Anna. Anything you can do.”
She stared at Lucie for a few seconds, the obvious war of loyalty and reason raging. Loyalty was all fine…until it ruined someone.
Finally, Anna nodded. “I’ll try. No promises, though. She’ll think I betrayed her.”
Success. A small bit anyway. “I understand. If you’d like my help, even on the sly, figuring out who is responsible, I’ll help you. Anything to clear my name.”
“I’m only doing this for Antoine. He’s my client. Our client. I can’t believe this is happening to him.”
Finally, a reasonable person. “I know. It’s horrible. I want you to know, I’m not the one doing this. I’m a businesswoman. Plus, I’ve spent my life working to overcome the snickering that comes with my last name.”
“I understand. Believe me. My dad died when I was ten. My mom never quite came out of it.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. Most people find a way to move on from the grief. Mom couldn’t. She stayed in bed for months and I took care of all of us—my mom, brother and me. Making breakfast, packing lunches, getting us to the bus. I didn’t realize how weird that was. It’s all I knew.” Anna stared off, out the window at the pedestrians on the sidewalk. The silence became a whoosh in Lucie’s ears. Anna must have felt it, the odd tension. She faced Lucie again. “I learned from it, though. I never want to end up like my mom. So I get that whole making something of yourself. That’s the only reason I’ll talk to Molly.”
Dog Collar Cuisine Page 9
