by Dianna Love
He slid his arm around her. “I believe it does.”
Chapter Sixteen
After getting off work early, Frankie wandered over to Lucie’s having no idea what to expect. Lately, the Rizzo nuthouse had gotten nuttier. And it was impossible to ignore their kind of crazy.
Lucie sat in her usual spot at the dining room table, her laptop open in front of her and various reports, fabric samples and other Coco-related items scattered about.
“Hey,” he said.
She stared at him with eyes as blank as a sheet of unused paper. Okay, then.
“Oh. My. God.” She squeezed her head between her hands. “I am completely freaking out.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She looked…deranged, and somehow…cute as hell. “Why?”
“They ordered five hundred coats.”
“Who?”
“Ro took it upon herself to meet with a buyer from Frampton’s. I should kill her for that alone, but five hundred coats? How are we supposed to do that?”
This information, just as Frankie was about to launch into one of his talk-her-off-the-ledge speeches, knocked him daffy. A major department store wanted Lucie’s products. “Luce, that’s fantastic.” He grabbed her hand, smothered it with kisses. “Damn, I’m proud of you.”
She snatched her hand away. “Did you hear me? Five. Hundred. Coats. Not to mention the two hundred collars.”
Even better. Coco Barknell had arrived. Frankie could understand Lucie’s turmoil, but this was awesome.
“Stop smiling,” Lucie screamed.
He rolled his lips under and she jabbed a stiff hand at her laptop. “I’ve been working on a production schedule and it’s impossible. We’ll never make it. What was I thinking, agreeing to this order?”
“You were thinking it’s a great opportunity and you should jump on it.” He grabbed the spreadsheet she’d left on the table and perused it. “What have we got here?”
Lucie flicked her finger at the underside of the page. “Cost estimates, production schedules, man hours. The whole works.”
His girl, as usual, had everything organized. The numbers looked good. Totally doable. “You’ve got a start on what you need. Let’s work it out. You need more money? I can give you a bridge loan until Frampton’s pays you.”
She shook that off. “What I really need is more time. I called the buyer after the meeting and talked her into delivery spread out over four weeks, but it’s still tight. We need to get them two hundred items in two weeks, then the remaining order over the following two weeks.”
Frankie perused the report in his hand. “You have five seamstresses here.”
“I figure we can get it done with five. They’ll have to work their butts off though.”
He set the spreadsheet down, looked at poor Lucie and her tight-lipped God-save-me expression. “Your mom knows people, right?”
“Yes. We’re hoping they’ll jump in.”
Sounded like a plan. “And my sister said she’d help.”
“I don’t know what to do about the dogs. I’ll have to get someone to cover for me; and how am I supposed to explain this whole dognapping thing?”
Frankie shrugged. “Joey will do it.”
And won’t he be stoked about that? Frankie picked up the spreadsheet again and pretended to read.
Lucie gasped. “For a minimum of three weeks? He’ll kill me. And if he doesn’t, I’ll have to listen to him moaning and I’ll wish he had killed me.”
He looked up from the spreadsheet and gave her his no-fail smile. “You’re cute.”
That earned him a big, honking eye roll. So much for his no-fail smile.
“Frankie, this Frampton’s thing adds pressure. We need to figure out who that diamond belongs to so we can all get on with our lives.”
“I know. With the search of the attic being a bust, we’re hitting dead ends everywhere.”
“Yeah. And Joey keeps telling me to check the walls for the diamonds, so I’ve been walking around banging on them. Next he’ll have us taking a hammer to my mother’s house.”
“You’re not doing that. This house hasn’t been painted in a couple years. How in the hell would someone hide something in the walls without your mother noticing? And Joey will walk the dogs for you.”
Lucie shook her head. “He won’t do it.”
“All he cares about is someone seeing him picking up poop. Outside of that, he doesn’t care. Plus, I have a little something that’ll convince him.”
Lucie leaned forward, a wicked gleam in her eye, which was a nice change from the psycho panic look.
“What is it?” she asked.
Frankie tossed the spreadsheet aside. “Nothing you need to know about. You’ll owe me big, though. I’ve been saving this chip a long time and I’m giving it up. For you.”
Where Lucie was concerned, owing him always meant sex, a lot of it, in experimental positions. In his opinion, hardly anything to cringe about.
She offered him a half grin. “If that’s what it takes. I’ll sacrifice my body.”
He grabbed her, nuzzled her neck and hoped for different ways to distract her. He backed away, stared into her eyes and saw the spark of heat there. That spark crackled between them as she ran her hand up his forearm and his skin did that funky pulsing that always happened when she touched him. He’d kill himself if it ever went away.
“You always come through for me,” she said.
And that was saying something with the crew they ran with. Never mind. This moment was too good to let it slip into drama-filled crapola. “Just make sure you do a lot of stretching. If Joey agrees to this, you’ll need to be limber.”
Her cheeks fired to the color of cherries. Probably thinking he was bad. But he was her bad. And the weeks they had spent apart before this dating thing happened had been torture.
Together, their unbalanced world evened out. He understood her life and the chaos of her family. They were a team. A damn good one.
***
Frankie parked the car a block from the Lutz’s. Once again, Lucie thought, he got a great parking spot. Good news considering it was already ten o’clock and they needed to pick up the scooters and get moving. She might as well walk Otis while they were here. It would blow her schedule even more out of whack because Otis wasn’t supposed to be walked until eleven-thirty, but she needed to cut time. Another night with Frankie forced her to work on collars early this morning rather than last night, which of course threw off her morning.
“Who’s first today?” Frankie asked.
“Walking Otis now will save us a trip.”
“Hopefully, we weren’t followed.”
Lucie flapped her arms. “Thanks for putting that idea into my head.”
“I’m just saying.”
Arguing made no sense, considering he was right, but still, she didn’t need the reality check. She grunted.
“Whatever, Luce. I’m not fighting with you.”
“I’m not fighting with you either.”
She opened the entry door, and Otis leapt at her with his tongue flying. He hit her hard enough to knock her off balance and she clutched the doorframe to keep from going over.
The dog shot out the door. “No, Otis! Frankie, catch him.”
He spun around, saw Otis on the move and grabbed his collar. “Got him.”
Whew. The Frankie Factor struck again. Even dogs weren’t immune. Damn rambunctious dog. Lucie grabbed the leash and ran to clip it on her not-so-little client.
“Bad boy, Otis.” He licked her hand. “Don’t try sucking up either. It won’t work.”
A car came around the corner and Frankie turned toward it. Lucie glanced at the black Cadillac cruising at a slow speed.
A niggling feeling zipped up her spine. Frankie watched the car amble down the street and turn at the next block.
“Did you get a look at the driver?” he asked.
“No. You?”
“No. He turned his head when they got close. I
didn’t recognize the guy in the passenger seat either.”
Insanity. With the million cars in this city, they couldn’t get sidetracked worrying about which ones held dognappers. “I think we’re being paranoid. Lots of people drive Cadillacs in this neighborhood.”
“It’s not paranoia. It’s caution.”
“Fine.” Lucie planted her feet until Otis realized he wasn’t going anywhere and stopped tugging. “Let’s be cautious while we’re walking then. This is our chance to make up the time we lost earlier.”
“You have your stun gun?”
She patted her shoulder bag. “Yep.”
“Keep it handy. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going? We’re late.”
But he was already running toward the back of the house. “Start walking if you have to. I’ll catch up. Fry anyone who comes near you.”
***
Frankie hauled ass in a way that reminded him of trying to beat the throw to home plate. His heart pounded, his breath hitched and the euphoria pushed him to move faster. If only he didn’t have dress shoes on. He cut through the Lutzes’ backyard to the other block. With any luck, the Caddie would hook another right onto this street and he could get a look at the driver.
Bursting through the neighbor’s yard, he cruised by the house and hit the sidewalk. The Caddie came around the corner. Yes! He ducked in front of a parked car and listened for the Caddie drawing closer.
When he heard it a few feet away, wanting the element of surprise, he jumped up, drew the attention of the driver and stared right into the face of Neil the blockhead.
Son of a bitch. He knew something was off about that car.
Neil turned his head and pressed the gas, barreling down the one-way street.
Lucie.
Damn.
Frankie charged back through the Lutzes’ yard, his muscles straining for more speed. He hit the driveway at a dead run and instinctively made a left. Lucie, being a creature of habit was halfway up the block.
“Luce!”
She spun toward him. Otis, seeing him in a full sprint, started howling and leaped. Lucie tugged on the leash with both hands to keep the dog from tearing her arm off. “What is it?”
“Watch for the Caddie. It’s the blockhead.”
Frankie caught up to her and ripped the leash from her hands. “Get your stun gun ready.” He looked at Otis. “Did you pee?”
As if the dog would answer. He turned to Luce. “What’s his status?”
“Peed. Didn’t poop, but he’s about to.”
Frankie glanced down the street. No Caddie yet. It should have been there by now. Must have veered off. “Neil was driving the Caddie. He circled around to the other block and I saw him.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I knew it.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Joey. He needs to get down here and help you while I ask my father what’s up with this guy.”
They finished Otis’s walk, keeping close watch for Blockhead until they jumped on scooters and headed to Buddy’s house. Joey met them there and Frankie headed back to Franklin. He had two-and-a-half hours before work, so he made a quick call to his father.
“I need to talk to you. In person. It’s important.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Meet me at the house in an hour.”
An hour. That left plenty of time for him to grab a cab to the Lutzes’ and head back home.
Finally, a break in this dognapping mess. He would lay odds that Neil was behind this whole thing and the son of a bitch was going to fry. He’d make sure of it.
How stupid could this guy be? Messing with Joe Rizzo’s daughter. He had to be a world-class schmuck.
Well, schmucko, you are toast. Worse than toast. A crouton.
Feeling smug, Frankie arrived at his parents’ house a few minutes early and used his key to let himself in. “Ma?”
No answer. Must be out. He marched into the kitchen, threw his keys on the table and spotted the morning’s leftover coffee sitting in the pot. After touching a finger to the pot—still warm—he helped himself to the brew. Last thing he needed was caffeine in his already buzzing body, but it was there, and why should he waste his mother’s good coffee?
The back door opened and his father came through wearing black pants with a crease so sharp it could have sliced iron. He wore a gray dress shirt, collar open, and his shoes were polished to a gleam as usual. His father never skimped on the details.
“You okay?” Pop asked.
All it took was that simple question and Frankie’s head exploded. No, he was not okay. He was exhausted and his father could get to the bottom of it with a few phone calls. “That effing blockhead. I think he’s behind these dognappings.”
Pop scrunched his face. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s a blockhead?”
“Neil. The guy with the square head that I met at Petey’s. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure it out. This morning, he cruised by Lucie and me when we were walking one of the dogs. You think that’s a coincidence?”
“Hey.” His father held up his hands and took a step forward. “Settle down.”
“Someone has been boosting these dogs to steal the collars and coats Lucie is making. And I think Neil is behind it. Why the hell else would he always show up where Lucie is when she’s walking the dogs?”
His father’s face turned to steel. Finally. He was getting the point and maybe they’d find some answers.
“Frankie, what are you doing? You can’t make an accusation like that. This guy Neil, he’s a good earner. You’re going to get him in a jackpot.”
Frankie shook his head so hard it should have flown off his head. Of all the crazy things. When did his father develop dementia? Maybe it wasn’t dementia, maybe it was something else, but he was not connecting the dots.
“Pop, listen to me. Please. I need you to look into this. I’ve seen that guy before. I’m not sure where, but I’ve seen him. The other day he wouldn’t look at me and he wouldn’t tell me his name. Why is that? He knows I’ve seen him somewhere he shouldn’t have been. And now, with him showing up at the Lutz’s this morning, it’s too convenient.”
A whistling started in Frankie’s head, and his father’s face went from cold steel to piping red-hot. Thank you. He was finally getting it.
“You’re out of your mind,” Pop shouted. Frankie’s head snapped back. Whoa. Never had he spoken to him this way. Beyond that, how could he not understand Neil was behind this? Or, was he trying to save himself because he’d lost control of a crew when Joe Rizzo put him in charge?
“Me? I am begging you for help. Lucie is in trouble. She’s carrying pepper spray, a stun gun and who knows what else. She’s already zapped someone with that thing. Sooner or later, she’ll get hurt. Do you want that to happen? Can you live with knowing you could have helped and didn’t?”
His father scrubbed his hands over his face. “How the hell did you get in the middle of this?”
As if that mattered. “I love her. I’ll do whatever I need to for her. Including going to Joe.”
There. He’d said it. Threatened to go over his father’s head.
Pop’s eyes turned black. Hard. Frankie shoulders flew up. It had been years since they went at it and the dread assaulted him like bad booze.
“Pop, all I’ve been asking for is help. If you can’t help me, I’ll find a way. Please, help me figure this out.”
Mom came through the back door carrying a grocery bag. She glanced at Pop then her gaze shifted to Frankie, and her face split into a smile. “Frankie!” She set the bag on the counter, rushed over and pulled him into a hug. “What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Ma.” He hugged her, closed his eyes a minute and let her happiness settle him. No matter how old he got, he wanted his mother happy.
“You should have told me you were coming. I’d have made you a nice lunch.”
“It’s too early for l
unch,” his father said.
“Still. I could have done something.”
“It’s okay, Ma. I can’t stay. I needed to talk to Pop and I think we’re done.” He turned to his father. “Are we done?”
Hesitation hung heavy in the air, and Pop’s gaze bounced between his wife and Frankie.
“Give me some time. I’ll talk to Neil.”
Frankie nodded. “Thank you.” He could have gone on about how he appreciated it and he knew it was a lot to ask, but that was stupid. His father owed him this. He owed Joe Rizzo this.
Frankie turned to his mother. “I owe you a dinner. How about Friday night? Just the two of us. We’ll go out somewhere.”
“I’d love that.” She turned to his father. “Do you mind?”
“No. Go have fun. You’re always saying you want more time with him.”
Frankie checked his watch. “I have to go.” He kissed his mother’s cheek then turned to his father. “Let me know what you find out.”
“Yeah, I’ll call you.”
With that, he walked out. No shoulder pat. No handshake. No nothing. Frankie wondered if he knew his father at all.
***
Lucie pulled her helmet off, shook out her hair and spotted Frankie standing in front of Rizzo’s Beef waiting for them. He stepped over, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.
What a greeting. But something wasn’t right with him. His energy usually came in buckets, but now there was a heaviness she didn’t understand.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m good. Happy to see you. Everything quiet?”
Joey swung his leg over the scooter seat and stretched his long arms. “We’ve gotta figure out this dognapping thing. The scooter is killing me. These bastards weren’t built for people my size.”
She ignored the complaint and released Frankie. “What did your father say?”
“He’s gonna talk to Neil. See what’s up.”
“Listen,” Joey said, “this Neil, he’s dumb, but I don’t see him being subversive. He doesn’t have the guts to go against my father.”
Frankie held his palms out. “My dad says he’s a good earner. Somehow he’s involved in this diamond thing.”