A weak smile lifted the corner of Ro's mouth, then she shifted her gaze to mom and finally Joey, where it stayed for a few seconds. Roseanne loved Lucie's idiot brother. Together, they made a good pair. Both nuts, both with flashing tempers, both generous in their own way.
All Lucie needed to do was get Ro out of this mess so that relationship could continue.
Ro faced the judge, giving Lucie the full brunt of the back of her head where she'd missed a few spots with the brush. From the end of the row, Mrs. B. sucked a horrified breath. Okay, Mrs. B., settle down now. It's just hair.
The judge requested Ro give her name and address for the court record.
"Ms. Buccarelli, I want to advise you that you’re charged on December 7 of this year in Cook County. Count one, homicide, murder in the first degree of Buzzy Sneider. That is a felony punishable by life in prison without parole."
Lucie gasped. Life in prison. Were these people insane?
The judge shot her a look and pointed. "Not another sound, young lady, or I will have you removed." He went back to his notes. "The jury will be permitted to consider lesser included offense of homicide, murder in the second degree. That is a felony punishable by four to twenty years in prison. Do you understand?"
While Lucie fought the urge to scream obscenities, Ro looked at Willie, who nodded. And how sad was it that they'd all learned not to speak unless consulting a lawyer?
"Yes," Ro said.
Maybe Ro understood, but Lucie didn't. At all. Since the judge had already called her out, she just sat shaking her head in mute protest. Could head shaking get her a contempt charge? She'd ask her lawyer, but he was busy at the moment.
The judge flew into a spiel, advising Ro of her rights and asking for her plea.
Not guilty. Of course, not guilty. The whole thing was ridiculous.
"Now," Judge Jackson said, "we'll deal with the issue of bond. Let's hear from the people, Mr. Cole."
The prosecutor cleared his throat, "Thank you, your honor. This is a violent crime. A senseless act that has terrified the community."
Come on! Terrified? Puh-lease. Lucie let out a long sigh and the judge smacked his gavel. "Order." He waved the gavel at Lucie. "I warned you already. Don't force me to hold you in contempt."
Whoopsie. Lucie held her hand up in apology and then zipped it across her mouth.
"Thank you, your honor." Mr. Cole said. "Now, I'd like to add that in addition to the fear instilled on the community, we know that Ms. Buccarelli has ties with the Rizzo crime family. We believe Ms. Buccarelli to be a potential flight risk. Given the heinous nature of the crime, we would ask that the court set no bond in this matter."
No bond. That snapped it. The guy must have left his mind on the curb. Ro didn't even have a criminal record and they were painting her to be some violent menace. So unfair. Lucie set her hands on her thighs and squeezed, letting all the tension flow through her fingers.
The judge held a hand to Willie. "Mr. Clay?"
Our turn. Lucie sat a little straighter. Now they'd see the master in action. Go get ‘em, Willie.
Willie stood and smoothed a hand over his $500 tie. "Thank you, your honor. Ms. Buccarelli is a model citizen who has lived in Cook County her entire life. She has family here and lives within ten miles of the courthouse. She has no prior record. She understands the seriousness of the charges and intends to defend herself passionately. However, it could take months for this case to go to trial. If she is found not guilty of these charges, she could suffer irreparable harm after spending that time in custody. We certainly don't want an innocent woman's life ruined. We request bond be set, even if it is a high bond. Please, your honor, allow Ms. Buccarelli to show this court she intends to return."
The judge eyeballed Ro, then Willie, then the prosecutor. He took a few seconds to review his notes before peeling off his glasses.
"Thank you," he said. "The court has considered these allegations very carefully. They are extremely violent. Also, Ms. Buccarelli's ties with convicted felons must be evaluated."
He made eye contact with Dad and Lucie felt that same burn rise into her chest. Humiliation. Wait. No. Anger. This time it wasn't about Dad. It was about Ro and that's all this judge should be considering. Ro shouldn't be punished because she'd been a great friend to a girl whose father made bad—horrible—choices.
"Given the charges and the defendant's lifestyle," the judge continued. "I'm ordering Ms. Buccarelli held without bond."
Chapter Seven
Ro's mom lost it. Just tossed her hands up and threw her body forward, collapsing over the railing dividing her from her daughter.
"My baby," she wailed.
The gallery erupted, reporters chattering, spectators gasping, others applauding. Applauding? What about any of this warranted that?
The full force of noise slammed into Lucie, making her ears ring and her mind race. No bail, no bail, no bail.
In the chaos, Ro swung back to her mother. "Mom, it's okay," she said, her voice strong and firm above the courtroom noise. "I'm okay."
"My baby!"
Mr. B. leaped from his seat and poked a beefy finger at the judge. "What a bunch of baloney."
The judge slammed his gavel, banging it hard. "Order. Order in the court."
Good luck with that.
He banged the useless gavel a few more times. "Bailiff! Please remove the defendant."
Excitement over, a crowd of folks made a push for the exit, all of them attempting to squeeze through the double doors at once. Probably all the reporters anxious to get this on tape for the latest breaking news segments.
"My baby," Mrs. B. cried again.
Someone needed to give her a Valium or something. The increased drama would only wind up on the evening news.
The officer who'd escorted Ro into the room grabbed her arm. Uh-oh. That wouldn't fly. Lucie whipped her head around and found Joey's face already turning that ugly shade of purple that preceded a meltdown. Crossing herself, she shot off a quick novena.
Couldn’t hurt.
"Ho," Joey hollered. "Take it easy with her. She's shackled."
Understanding the nuances of life with Rizzo men, Mom sidestepped and faced her son, her eyes burning. "Don't go crazy in here. I won't have it."
"Joey," Ro shouted. "Lock up my jewelry. And my mink. Don't let that rat bastard stripper-banging ex near the house. Please."
For not the first time, Lucie gawked. That's what she was worried about?
The press would get a hundred miles out of this freak show.
The guard kept his grip on Ro, dragging her toward the door as she shuffled along, screaming orders over her shoulder. "Especially the diamond earrings you gave me. Put them in the safe."
After seeing this fiasco on the evening news, thieves everywhere might hunt down Ro's house. And her diamond earrings. One thing Joey wasn't was cheap.
Lucie raised both hands. "Stop talking. We've got it. Don't worry, we'll get you out. I promise."
"I love you, Luce. And Mom and Dad. I love you. Joey. I love you."
"Gotta say," Dad said, "none of my trials got wacky like this."
"Dad!"
Her father pulled a what-did-I-do? face. "What? It's nuts in here."
Again, the judge slammed his gavel. He might as well cut that out right now. Nothing would tame this bunch.
"You oughta get locked up," Mr. B. roared, still jabbing his finger at the judge. "She's a good girl and you put her in with a bunch of lowlifes." He turned to Dad. "No offense, Joe."
"None taken." Dad gently touched Mr. B.'s arm. "But you gotta calm down. I know this judge. He'll throw you in there too."
"Sir," the judge said to Mr. B, "leave this court before I hold you in contempt."
Dad turned to Lucie. "See? Am I right or am I wrong? Loves to cage people, this judge."
Mr. B. gave the judge the stink eye. "Ah, baloney."
"My baby!"
Holy cow. Everyone needed to get a grip. Lucie had alrea
dy spent time in a cell—twice—and had no interest in going back. If someone got arrested today, it wouldn't be her. Loyalty only took her so far.
The room whirled and Lucie drew a long breath, fought to focus just for a few seconds. They needed a plan.
Everyone out. If she could at least get them all into the fresh air, they could regroup.
"Dad, get Mr. B. out of here. Mom and I will get Mrs. B." She snapped her fingers at Joey still watching the guard haul Ro away. "Hey, pay attention. We're mission critical here. Help dad. Mom and I will handle Ro's mom."
"My baby!"
Oh, my God. Enough with the “my baby” already.
Joey angled around Mom, set his hand on Mr. B.'s back. "Let's go. As mad as you are, lighting this judge up isn't gonna help. Believe me."
Hang on. Was that Joey, King of the PITAs, talking so rationally? Amazeballs. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
"My baby," Mrs. B. wailed.
Time to move before Ro's mother had a psychotic break. Lucie faced Mom and clutched her forearm. "This is a two-woman job. You're a mother, you talk while I get her up and out the door. We just need to distract her long enough to get her to the door."
Mom nodded. "Honestly, the drama these people create puts the Rizzos to shame. Who'd have believed that one?"
In the twenty minutes it took to get Mr. and Mrs. B. to their car, Lucie's phone had blown up. Texts, calls, more texts, all of them firing in like machine gun strikes.
Mom glanced at her, eyebrows hiked. "Please shut that off. I can't take anymore."
"Sorry." Not wanting to verbalize that the calls must be about Ro, Lucie jerked her head at Mrs. B. "Everyone must be watching the news or something."
Obliging her mother, she powered the phone down and swung the passenger side door of Mr. B.'s ancient Lincoln open, nudging Mrs. B. into the seat. She strapped her in while the poor woman sobbed. Total wreck.
Seatbelt secure, Lucie stepped back.
"My baby," Mrs. B wailed, once again throwing her body forward and nearly decapitating herself in the process.
Mom propped her hands on her hips. "Maria, knock it off before you hurt yourself. You know we'll get her out of there. Roseanne belongs in jail as much as Lucie does."
Considering Lucie had been arrested a couple months back and incorrectly charged with storing stolen merchandise, Mom's analogy, to say the least, fell flat. Mrs. B. started screaming again.
"How about we not talk?" Lucie shut the car door.
"I was trying to help."
The cold air fell blissfully quiet. Well, as quiet as it could with a deranged woman wailing from the confines of a car. Behind them, Joey and Dad walked up with Mr. B.
"I don't understand," Ro's dad said. "How did this happen?"
"I don't know," Lucie said. "We're having some business issues with Buzzy." Well, not Buzzy anymore. Dead Buzzy. Ew. Whatever. "Uh, Buzzy's company. They swiped a few of Ro's designs and Ro has been...vocal."
"How many times," Dad said, "do I tell my guys to stay off that damned twitting."
Dad. Had to love him.
Joey refrained from correcting Dad, but offered up an eye roll that should have scrambled his brain. "We gotta figure this out."
Dad held his hands up. "Willie is on it. He's got a couple of crack investigators working this 24/7."
"Good," Lucie said. "What about Buzzy's security system? There has to be video."
"It's a bust."
"What does that mean?"
"It must not have been on. Willie found out there's no video from that night."
Damn it. A bit of Lucie's hope took a blast on that one. But they'd press forward. Figure something else out. "I'll look into a few things," she said. "All it'll take is something, anything, to clear her of suspicion. She met with the buyer at Frampton's around the same time that Buzzy died. I'll call the client, verify she was with them and we're done." Lucie smacked her hands together. "Over. Ro is free."
Because one thing was for sure. Lucie couldn't sit around while Ro became someone's prison bitch.
On a mission to scour Ro's computer and calendar, Lucie left the courthouse and headed straight for the office. She'd spent hours last night combing through her BFF's various email folders only to realize she’d taken for granted how much Ro accomplished in a day. When this was over, a raise was in order. Whatever cushion existed in Lucie’s budget would be Ro's increase.
Done.
The drive to the office kept her from responding to the flurry of texts and phone calls streaming in, but she'd get to them when she stopped moving.
She pushed through the office door and Lauren, one of her part-timers, hopped up from behind Ro's desk.
"Oh, my God," she said in that typical fast-moving college girl way. "Did you get my message?"
"No. I've had fifty calls in the last hour."
Lucie marched to Ro's desk bent on a full audit of the computer.
Except...no computer.
Before her butt hit the chair, she pointed to the empty space where Ro's laptop usually sat. "Where's the laptop?"
"That's what I was calling about. The police came here. They had a warrant. They took it. And a bunch of other stuff too. I called and called. I didn't know what to do."
A warrant. Damn it. Poor Lauren. Here all by herself as cops paraded through. Lucie, never one to get touchy-feely with her employees, set her hand on the girl’s shoulder. "Thank you, but there was nothing either of us could have done."
Because Joe Rizzo's daughter knew a thing or thirty about warrants. "If they had a warrant, we wouldn't have been able to stop them."
"I know, but it seems so wrong that they can just take anything they want. They even took her sketch pad."
Ugh. The sketch pad. Ro loved that thing. A fan of spiral notebooks, she'd opted for an oversized spiral pad that she could flip back and forth on. She'd ordered them in bulk because she said it was good karma. That all those sketch pads meant a lot of ideas.
Lucie may have owned Coco Barknell, but Ro's designs and salesmanship had gotten them their biggest client. In business and in friendship, they were partners.
The doggie bells jangled and Tim entered the shop. Given that it was barely 3:00, he still wore the same suit from that morning. The gray one with the light blue tie that brought out the red in his hair. She loved that suit on him. Really, she loved anything on Tim.
He strode toward her, his broad shoulders pushed back in that familiar way that made Lucie believe he could carry just about anything on them.
Even her drama.
The overhead light caught the glint of his badge and sidearm at his waist. The whole look, the confidence, the presence, brought an odd mix of security and lust.
Tim. Tim. Tim.
"Hi," she said. "Did you hear about Ro?"
He set his big hands on her shoulders and kissed her. Nothing too crazy in front of Lauren, but a soft brush of his lips that made Lucie yearn to curl into him.
He backed away from the kiss and nodded. "I'm sorry."
Weren't they all.
She didn't want apologies though. She wanted to understand. "How is that possible when she doesn't have a criminal record?"
Tim stayed quiet. Of course he did. They'd been through this same routine plenty of times. One of the many things she loved, simply adored, about him was his honesty. His loyalty to the job. Tim didn't allow himself to be manipulated or used, and he never compromised his ethics by sharing information about his cases.
Ever.
For months now, she'd been respecting those boundaries and making sure her father and brother did the same. Tim would not be one of their insiders in the PD. No way.
Except now, with Ro behind bars, she sort of wanted him to pony up. Leave it to her to fall in love with an honorable guy.
Totally aggravating.
"It's up to the judge," he finally said.
Which she knew. "That judge hates us."
"He doesn't hate you."
Oh, please. "You weren't there. You didn't see how he looked at my dad. That's what this is about. He's punishing Ro because of Dad, well, that won't fly. No sir."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"Luce, stay out of it."
"I'm not doing anything."
Tim laughed. "Nice try. I know you." He grabbed her hands and squeezed. "Please, I'm begging you, stay out of it. Homicide is on it. If she's innocent..."
What if? Did Tim think? Oh, come on. "If? Are you kidding me?"
He held his hands flat in front of him. That holy-crap-settle-down gesture alpha men liked to employ.
"When," he said. "When she's proven innocent, she'll be released. For now, don’t go off on one of your screwball investigations."
Good luck there, pal. Still...she met his gaze, grabbed onto his hands and squeezed. "Kinda hard to do a screwball investigation when fifty percent of the screwball is behind bars."
Visitor’s pass secured, Lucie pressed three on the elevator leading up to the Foo-Foo Entertainment corporate floor and stepped back while Joey corralled their most recent dog walking client, a fifty-five pound, tan terrier/labradoodle mix named Coitus. This poor dog wound up with a pothead owner who thought it funny that the animal humped everything he set his sights on. Thus, Rodney became Coitus. Idiot pothead changed the dog’s name at two years old.
Poor guy. The dog. Not the pothead.
Oy. 9:00 a.m. might be too early for Lucie to deal with a humping dog named Coitus.
But they needed props for this impromptu meeting at Foo-Foo Entertainment and Coitus lived around the block.
The elevator doors slid closed. Lucie stood back, eyeballing her charges: Boots, an adorable Bijon Frise-Yorkie mix with ears that stuck straight out like airplane wings when he got excited, and Brie, a spoiled Griffon Bruxellois owned by a famous chef who’d just hired Coco Barknell for dog walking services.
Joey leaned against the wall while Coitus sized up Brie.
“Control him,” she said. “He’s salivating over Brie.”
“He’s fine. Tell me again what we’re doing here?”
Dog Collar Chaos Page 8