Dog Collar Chaos

by Adrienne Giordano

  "Good. I'll go with you."

  "Oh, I don't think so."

  Dad smacked his fingers against the edge of the table. "You think I'd let you talk to this woman alone? With her sister in a morgue?" He shook his head. "No. I'm going."

  Beside her, Joey took a massive bite of his sandwich, his gaze shooting between Dad and Lucie. Help from him wouldn’t come. That’d be the day Joey went against Dad.

  "We'll talk about it later," Lucie said.

  "Eh. You talk, I won't listen. We'll go see the sister. Case closed."

  Lorraine Sneider was holding court in her brownstone. The one neighboring her sister's.

  God, that would be awful. Coming home every night, passing your sibling's home knowing she'd been murdered inside. Lucie wouldn't have been able to do it. She'd have to move. Some things were simply outside the natural order of life.

  After ditching Joey at Rizzo’s, Lucie and Dad drove up to Buzzy and Lorraine's street in cushy Lincoln Park and found both ends of the block barricaded by uniformed officers. Reporters and cameramen blanketed the area, vying for the best possible spot near the front of the pack.

  "Vultures," Dad said. "Baby girl, you have no idea."

  Her father. The superstar.

  "Nor do I want to, Dad."

  Dad nudged into a no-parking zone on the corner and was rewarded with a shot of the bird from an annoyed cameraman who'd been pushed from a prime viewing space.

  Calmly, Dad hit the window button and stuck his head out. "Do it again and I'll break that finger off."

  Oy. Time to go. Lucie had learned keeping Dad focused avoided distractions like punching the lights out of random strangers who might press charges.

  If she worked quickly enough, she'd eliminate any further interaction between the bird-flipper and her fiery father.

  She yanked the door handle. "I'll talk to the cop and see if we can get through."

  "Awright. I'll wait here with the car. Drop my name. If I know this cop, it might help."

  Ohmygod.

  A lawsuit, Ro locked up, and Lucie running shotgun with Dad. How did this become her life?

  Lucie hopped out of the car, pushed through a couple of reporters, and marched right up to the beat cop. "Hi."

  The cop, a middle-aged guy with jowly cheeks gave her thick-soled boots, jeans, and down jacket the once-over.

  "If you're a protester, I don't want to hear it."

  A protester? She glanced down at her ensemble, decided nothing about it said protestor, and faced the cop again.

  "No. I'm actually a business partner of Buzzy's." She dug a business card and driver’s license from her purse and handed it over. "Lucie Rizzo from Coco Barknell. I wanted to pay my respects to Lorraine."

  Such a name dropper.

  The cop studied the card. "Rizzo? Are you—"

  "Lucie Rizzo. Yes." She did jazz hands. "That's me."

  The cop laughed. "Listen, toots, a little tip, if you want to get through here, don't be a ballbuster."

  He was right. Wasn't his fault she'd endured a lifetime of people looking down on her because of her father's legal woes.

  "Hey," someone behind her yelled. "Where are you going?"

  That brought a chorus of shouts and—oh, no. She couldn't look. Couldn't.

  "Is there a man walking toward us. Salt and pepper hair, nice overcoat? Kind of distinguished looking?"

  Being the peanut she was, the cop peered across the top of her head. "Whoa," he said. "Is that..."

  Damn it, Dad.

  Lucie whipped back. Her father exchanged words with one of the reporters, whose eyes suddenly grew wide, his head bobbing up and down. One thing about her father, he knew how to make an entrance.

  "Dad!"

  Her father flashed her a wide smile, held his finger up, said one last thing to the reporter, then made his way toward her and the cop.

  "Sorry," he said, "I had to straighten something out."

  He reached his hand to the cop. "Joe Rizzo. Good to meet you."

  Her father. The master. With very little effort, by simply holding his hand out and introducing himself, he'd just shoved this cop into a corner. If the cop ignored the gesture, he'd appear rude. And what person in their right mind would be rude to a mob boss? Particularly if said mob boss had been perfectly polite.

  Please, please, please shake his hand.

  Because her father's charm had a short leash. In a few seconds, the famous Joe Rizzo might fly into a vein-popping rage over this cop refusing to shake his hand. For all his faults, and God knew there were plenty, common courtesy was a hot button with her father. If he treated you well, he expected the same in return.

  Even if he was crazy.

  The cop finally shook his hand and Lucie let out a quiet rush of air.

  Wasn't this the dilemma she'd fought for so long? The two sides of her father. On the one side she saw a man who'd provided for his family, gave them every material thing they'd ever needed. On the other side? The man who'd lied—by omission—to his children about how he made his living and had committed crimes Lucie didn't want to think about.

  She couldn't be naive about it, though. Men didn't climb the ranks of the mob with their charity work.

  Even if he did collect toys for needy kids at Christmas.

  Dad let go of the cop's hand and turned to Lucie. "What's the hold up? I'm in a no-parking zone. And if I don't move, this nice officer is going to give me a ticket."

  Nice officer?

  This was a switch.

  He went back to the cop. "Look, my daughter wants to visit the dead broad's sister, but this place is nuts right now. There's no parking anywhere and I'm not leaving her here with these vultures. Can we let her through and, when I know she's safe, I'll go move my car?"

  Go Dad.

  The cop eyed Dad, then shifted to Lucie, who did her best with a demure, pleading smile. Academy Awards, here we come.

  "Hold on," one of the reporters said. "I think that's Joe Rizzo."

  "Joe," a man yelled.

  "Joe, what are you doing here?"

  "Joe, did you know, Buzzy?"

  Joe, Joe, Joe.

  A weird pressure built in the air, one Lucie hadn't felt since the day of her father's sentencing. Reporters had circled around them, shoving closer and closer, ripping the oxygen away, while jabbing microphones in their faces, seeking that all important sound bite. Lucie glanced behind her. The mass of people squeezed in, reporters and cameramen once again vying for position. A few more steps and they'd be ensnared.

  Get out. Walk away.

  The feeling from that day in court, the tightness in her chest, the racing mind, the panic, it all came back to her.

  "Crap." The cop shoved by Lucie and Dad. "Quiet down!"

  The shouts died down to a murmur. Well, how about that? This guy was good.

  "All of you," the cop hollered, "step back. Two steps. Right now."

  He waited a few seconds and when nobody moved he shook his head. "Back row. Move it before I start throwing you out for blocking traffic."

  That's all it took. The crowd stirred, all of them unhappy kindergartners backing away in unison.

  The cop brought his attention to Lucie and her father again. "Hang tight."

  His eye still on the crowd, he stepped away, speaking into the radio strapped to his shoulder. He held her business card in front of him, presumably reading her name off. After pausing for a good two minutes, his fingers tapping against her card, he returned.

  "Okay," he said. "You can go in. Just you. Walk around the barricade though. There's another officer at the door. He'll check you in."

  Check her in? Did she get a name badge too?

  Lucie and Dad headed to the edge of the barricade, the cop eyeing them to make sure only Lucie went in.

  "Baby girl, you'll have to go alone."

  Pity that. Still, her father had helped her. "I know. I'll be fine, Dad. Thank you."

  "You're welcome. I'll go back to the car. Circle
for a while. You be careful."

  "I will."

  She ducked around the barricade as another wave of Joe, Joe, Joe's started. If nothing else, her father knew how to divert attention.

  Having met with Buzzy in her home office three weeks ago, Lucie headed for the middle of the block to Buzzy's brownstone. Its stone facade and intricately carved details made it an absolute showstopper. She'd even added an iron fence anchored with stone pillars around her dormant patch of lawn. Everything about this block, including the sidewalks, screamed clean and bright. And money. Lots of it.

  Crime scene tape still hung across the front gate. A shiver ran down Lucie's neck. Buzzy had been murdered here. Right here.

  Lucie kept moving, her gaze on the officer near the front gate of Lorraine's almost identical house. When she reached him, she handed over her ID.

  He studied it—as if someone had mugged her and stolen her ID on a barricaded street crawling with cops?—, then stepped aside and waved her in.

  Chapter Nine

  A young woman opened the front door. Something ticked in Lucie's brain. A staffer. Lucie had seen her at the corporate office when they'd initially met with Buzzy.

  "Hello," the woman said. "Come in. Lorraine is in the study. I think. I'll take your coat."

  The setup of the home was similar to Buzzy's. Staircase to the right. Living room to the left connected to a small study in the middle. Kitchen and dining room at the back end of the house. Lucie glanced into the living room where a crush of people, all dressed in designer suits and dresses formed small groups and murmured softly to each other.

  Without waiting for her to surrender, the woman peeled Lucie's jacket off her shoulders. "Um, thanks. Wow, there's a lot of people here."

  "This is the early crowd. Wait until tonight. The place will be standing room only. There's food in the kitchen if you want something."

  There went the intended private meeting with Lorraine.

  A wildly underdressed Lucie dove into the crowd, cutting through the living room toward the study. A giant oak sliding door had been pushed open and tucked behind an arched wall. In the corner, Buzzy's parrot, Felix, a cute Kelly green guy with a splash of yellow feathers on his head, perched inside his cage, his head swaying back and forth.

  Lucie and Ro had met him on their first visit to Buzzy's, and Ro had fallen madly in love. For kicks, Buzzy liked teaching the little guy swear words and when he got rolling, he'd make a military unit blush.

  Fascinated, she paused for a second, watching him dip and roll his head in perfect time with the soft music streaming from hidden speakers. Was he...dancing?

  Felix went still and cocked his head, his beady black eyes zooming to hers.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"

  The murmurs in the room ceased and a horrified Lucie glanced left where a man and woman gave her the stink eye.

  "Don't fucking do it," the parrot squawked again. "5511! Piss off!

  "Holy cow," Lucie said. "What a potty mouth."

  "Don't fucking do it!"

  Compelled to defend herself, Lucie held her hands out for all the guests to see. "I'm not doing anything. I promise."

  "Don't fucking do it!"

  Wow. This is what Joey would call a crazy-assed bird. Maybe she'd just walk away. Still holding her hands out, she sidestepped. "Sorry to disturb, little guy. Go back to your dancing."

  "That bird," Lorraine said, rushing from the crowd. "He's crazy."

  Lorraine wore a black dress with a chunky gold necklace and matching earrings.

  She slipped a cover over the cage. "Hi, Lucie. I'm so sorry about Felix. I think he's stressed with all the people in the house."

  "It's no problem. I feel bad for him. He must miss her. If birds are anything like dogs, he might be adjusting to being moved from next door."

  "Don't fucking do it!"

  Conversation from the crowd, bless their hearts, rose above Felix's tirade. Lorraine latched onto Lucie's elbow, drawing her away. She found a free bit of space next to an oversized floor lamp in the back corner of the room and faced Lucie. Up close like this, the dark shadows under her eyes reminded Lucie to tread carefully. The woman had just lost her only sibling.

  "Thank you for coming, Lucie. I know Buzzy was excited to be working with you on the fashion show."

  Yeah, and stealing Ro's designs.

  "But, honestly, with the developments, are you sure you should be here? Business is one thing, but this is personal."

  "Developments?"

  "The arrest?"

  "Lorraine, I've known Roseanne since grade school. She couldn't have done this. She wouldn't."

  Plus, her BFF didn't resort to wedgies. If Ro wanted to kill someone, she wouldn't waste her energy on a wedgie. She'd just shoot 'em and be done with it.

  Not that Ro would do that.

  Lorraine blinked. "Well, Roseanne has been upset."

  "And rightly so, wouldn't you say?"

  "If those allegations are true, of course, but we've yet to determine that. I don't know that this is the time, but I'd like to settle that bit of nasty business. I don't want it tarnishing my sister's memory."

  Lucie glanced around at the milling guests. All these folks here to pay their respects. For whatever reason, she wondered just how many of them were business contacts, like her. Why did it matter? The woman was dead. Murdered right next door.

  "I'd like to settle it as well. Should I call Darren and see if we can all set up a meeting?"

  Throwing Buzzy's agent's name out there couldn't hurt. At the very least, it would indicate his level of involvement.

  Lorraine broke eye contact and scanned the room, waving to one of the guests and offering a tight, controlled smile. "Darren won't be handling any of my sister's affairs from now on. We've decided to go a different way."

  Huh. No Darren. Maybe that intel on Buzzy's agent being on the outs wasn't a rumor.

  "All right," Lucie said. "Once things die—" She winced at her own poor word choice. "Once things settle down, I'll give you a call and we'll see what we can work out. Foo-Foo Entertainment is still a sponsor, along with Coco Barknell, and I want to make sure it all goes well."

  The tension in Lorraine's cheeks eased and she gently squeezed Lucie's arm. "Thank you, Lucie. I adored my sister and I don't want a misunderstanding destroying her legacy. I'm glad you came by today. You surprised me, but I'm pleased we could talk."

  Lorraine wandered off to her next guest, leaving Lucie in the corner by herself.

  "Don't fucking do it!"

  That crazy bird. Even with the cage cover on he wanted to be heard. God help the person who inherited that thing.

  Wanting to avoid going near the cage, Lucie ducked out the side door into the hallway. By now Dad would be checking his watch, and she wanted to get outside before he incited a riot. Maybe Dad should take the bird. The two of them together would drive the world insane.

  Still, this solo mission had netted a possible resolution to their stolen designs problem and, more importantly, confirmation that Buzzy's agent was on the outs.

  All she needed to know was if his banishment would drive him to murder.

  Dad pulled up in front of Coco Barknell and double parked behind a Franklin police cruiser, also double parked behind Jimmy Two-Toes' new Cadillac. It was a wonder traffic even flowed.

  Not waiting for Dad to shut the engine, Lucie hopped out and scooted into the office. Mom was chatting with Joey, who'd planted his butt at Ro's desk. Lucie had called him, asking that he swing by so they could huddle up. With Ro in jail, Lucie needed help and Joey was, much to her own horror, the defacto Ro.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi, honey," Mom said. "Where's your father?"

  "He said he needed to talk to one of the guys down at Petey's."

  Secretly, she was glad. Did that make her horrible? She'd just spent the last few, surprisingly not miserable, hours with Dad. Now she needed space. And calm. A Zen mo
ment.

  With Joey in residence, that Zen moment might be a stretch. "How's everything here? Anything I need to know?"

  "Coitus," Joey said, "he's a pain in the ass."

  "Joseph. Language." Mom handed over a stack of messages.

  Lucie perused the first one. A potential dog walking client. "You say that about all the dogs."

  "This time I mean it. You saw it yourself this morning. And listen, the schedule is getting tight."

  "I know."

  "Then do something about it."

  The dog walking side of the business continued to grow, right along with the accessory side. To date, Lucie delegated most of the walking duties and scheduling to Joey, who didn't want to admit he enjoyed the work. She knew. You didn't live under the same roof with someone for most of your life and not know when they were having fun. She'd hired two part-timers to help as well, but their schedules often collided.

  "Is it time to suck it up and hire a full-timer?"

  Joey propped his feet on Ro's desk. "It's been time for three months. We're maxed out and Lauren is taking extra credits next semester. If anything, her hours will go down."

  "I'd hate to lose her, though. She's good with the dogs."

  Joey held his hands out. "You're the one wanting to run a Fortune 500 company."

  Lucie dropped the messages on her desk. "How about you, Mom? Anything I need to know?"

  "Nope. Just another day in paradise. I worked on a few of the samples Ro requested." Mom pointed to the conference table. "They're over there. Once you sign off, I'll start working on production."

  Production. Listen to Mom.

  Joey stood and leaned against one of the support beams. "Dad called and said you talked to Buzzy's sister? What the hell?"

  She spent two minutes bringing them up to speed then paused to gather her thoughts. "I think we need to look into the agent. Based on the money Buzzy made, he can't be happy about being shoved out."

  Roseanne had already spent two days—46 hours to be exact—in jail. And weren't the first 48 hours of an investigation the most critical? She'd heard that on television and it seemed to make sense. As time went on and Ro spent more time behind bars, the possibility existed that the police would stop looking for the real killer. Maybe they had already.