“No. The whole thing was a mess.”
“Ransom note,” Ro said.
“Who the hell kidnaps a recipe?”
Plenty of people. Lucie picked up her pen, circling it. “Someone looking to cash out quick. That recipe built a business worth billions. Part of the allure is the secrecy. Only Antoine and one executive know the entire recipe. Everyone else has bits of it. And there are only a few of those folks. If it gets released to the public, his business comes apart.”
Her brother tucked the walking schedule in his back pocket and pursed his lips. “This note, what’d it say?”
“It said if Antoine called the cops, they’d post the recipe online and that he should wait for another communication.”
A low whistle streamed from Joey’s lips.
“He thinks I’m behind the whole thing. The Rizzo name isn’t exactly synonymous with law-abiding citizenship.”
“Here we go.” Her idiot brother stroked his thumb and index finger together, creating a tiny violin. “Blah, blah, boo-fucking-hoo.”
“Joey,” Ro said, “knock it off. Antoine accused our Lucie of blackmail. And the rat- bastard fired us.”
For whatever reason, the firing part grabbed his attention. Lucie being accused of blackmail? Not even a blip.
“Come on? The Ewok is gone?”
Lucie closed her eyes and said a quick Hail Mary. All these years, how had she not murdered him yet?
Each day, that accomplishment grew into a source of pride.
He waved them off. “I’ll talk to Antoine.”
Great. Now he wanted to play the muscle? “And what? Break his kneecaps? No. No talking.”
The two of them stared at her, apparently stunned into silence that Lucie, the one always striving for truth and honor, would be satisfied waiting while someone thought poorly of her.
Ro cocked her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just because I don’t want Joey making a stink doesn’t mean I’m sitting around doing nothing. I’m making a plan.”
Joey held up a finger. “We’re making a plan. No one accuses Rizzos of stealing.”
Well, no one but the federal government. But that was for a different day.
Ro smacked a hand on the table. “Exactly.”
Her peeps. Joey, the Merchant of Wiseass and Ro, the drama queen. How awesome were they?
Twisted, but awesome. Maybe they all fought like crazy, but they stuck together. Always. Something Lucie had taken for granted in the past. She’d been too busy trying to rise above being a Rizzo. The shame of that settled in her stomach. Now? Every morning, she said a silent prayer of thanks. For everything. Particularly for a family, despite its reputation, that loved and protected her. “Thank you, guys. You’re always there for me.”
“Eh,” Ro said, “that’s what we do. Now, let’s find the rat-bastard who stole this recipe.”
Joey checked his watch. “I got half an hour before I have to leave to pick up Otis. You know how he gets when the schedule gets thrown.”
Her brother. The mush.
Joey dropped into the seat next to Ro, eyed her for a few long seconds, and leaned toward her. “You look great.”
What the heck had gotten into him today? Lucie pointed at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
The joke fell flat while Joey and Ro made eyes at each other. Lucie contemplated giving them a few minutes alone. In her mind, Joey and Ro’s relationship had three modes: Fighting, laughing, screwing.
The order of those things often changed, but the elements remained the same.
They put the P in passion. It worked for them, but Lucie? No way. She needed different. She needed what Detective Tim O’Brien provided. Rock solid and steady, they were a team with a similar sense of humor and values. Spending time with him instilled a sense of calm she’d never experienced. Joe Rizzo’s daughter and a cop. Go figure? But Tim understood her, understood her drive to grow Coco Barknell into a Fortune 500 company. He was her partner in every way.
And he looked good naked.
What more could a girl want?
How about to not be caught in the middle of dustups requiring police involvement?
Lately, Tim’s job didn’t necessarily mix with the chaos known as Lucie’s life. She seemed to constantly be putting him in awkward positions. As horrible as she felt about that, she wasn’t sure how to fix it.
And being accused of stealing a famous recipe wouldn’t help.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get to work on a plan. I was up half the night, and I think we start by making a list of all the people who may have had access to Antoine’s office.”
She hopped out of her chair and walked to the rolling white board against the wall.
Blue marker in hand, she wrote SUSPECTS at the top of the board.
“Firefighters,” Ro said.
“Employees,” Joey added.
Lucie jotted both. “Police. They were on scene as the fire was being put out. One of them could have wandered upstairs.”
Joey propped his hands on his head. “What about that back door Lucie came out of? The one that leads to the fire escape. Anyone could have climbed it.”
“Ugh. He’s right.”
“Reporters,” Ro said. “That fire was all over the news. And you know how aggressive reporters can be.”
Lucie added REPORTERS to the list and stepped back. It was a start, but…
“What’s wrong, Luce?”
Good old Ro. She knew Lucie’s signals better than most.
“Something is bugging me. Why would someone want to do this to Antoine?”
“Easy,” Joey said. “Greed.”
Lucie tipped her head one way then the other, still studying the list. “Well, sure. I’m just wondering if there’s more to it.”
“Like what?”
“A vendetta. Maybe it’s not about the money, but about ruining Antoine?”
“Revenge is a strong motivator,” Ro said. “I’m crazy in love with your brother, but I’d neuter my stripper-banging ex-husband in a second.”
Joey threw his arms up. “Here we go.”
“No. She’s right. Humiliation like that doesn’t go away. I think we need to start investigating this list, but also find out if anyone had some sort of vendetta against Antoine.”
“Honey,” Ro said, “you don’t get that rich and famous without crushing someone on your way to the top.”
Lucie flicked the marker at Ro. “And when someone is that famous, their exploits are reported on. Widely. We can research it on the internet. See who hated Antoine enough to do something like this. We all know what a snake pit social media can be.”
Joey checked his watch and stood. “I gotta go. But you know what we can also do?”
“What?”
“Hack into his emails.”
That did it. Her brother was officially insane. “No. That’s crazy. Way outside my comfort zone. What are you thinking?”
“You want people calling you a thief? A con woman? Is that in your comfort zone?”
“Joey,” Ro said, “stop.”
He gave her the classic Joey hard stare. As if that ever worked on Ro.
“You stay out of it.” He turned back to Lucie. “You don’t want people judging you.” He waved his arms. “Ooh, I’m not a mob princess. Poor, poor me, my last name is Rizzo.”
Lucie wanted to argue, wanted to rail on her brother, but…nothing. God help her, Joey was right.
“Luce, if you want answers quick? Then see what this guy has in his personal life. Think about the crap you email each day. Business problems, talking smack about people, all of it is in there.”
“You want me to hack into someone’s emails? Last I checked, that was illegal.”
Joey grinned. “Only if we get caught.”
Book of Life According to Dad. Absolute confirmation that their father’s choices affected them in ways far more important than embarrassment. Those choice
s taught them—Joey particularly—that it was sometimes necessary to play outside the lines.
“Besides,” Joey added, “what’s the difference between hacking into someone’s computer and rummaging through their files?”
Such a jerk. Totally had her on that one since she'd snooped in a former client's file cabinet to help prove he was running a scam.
“Damn you, Joey.”
He held his hands wide. “It is what it is, Luce.”
“Well, all of it is moot since none of us know how to hack.”
“We don’t need to.” He gave her a smug grin. “I got a guy.”
Chapter Six
Lucie and Ro stood on the sidewalk in front of a three-story brick row home in West Town, a neighborhood on the near northwest side of Chicago.
For a guy who owed his bookie five grand, Joey’s client seemed to live well. Considering the average home values in this neighborhood fell somewhere around $400,000.
Somehow, she’d expected different. Something seedier with overgrown weeds and broken light fixtures. Blacked out windows.
The windows might have been a stretch.
But, hey, maybe the guy was good at his job.
Leave it to Joey to come through. As much as she liked to nag him about giving up his bookie business, the fact that some degenerate gambler owed him $5,000 might have just helped her cause.
Should she do it, though? Resort to an illegal activity—one that might include jail time—to prove her innocence?
All this time, she’d held herself to higher standards than her father and brother. Lucie, the good one. The honest Rizzo.
How things changed.
Irony. Always a bitch.
She stood in the morning sunshine, the warm rays splashing over her cheeks, lifting her spirits a smidge. Ahead, nearly glowing stone steps led to a narrow porch and an oversized glass door that screamed contemporary. Whoever this hacker was, he had good taste.
“Am I really doing this?”
Ro glanced over at her. “Sister, you sure are.”
“I mean, it’s illegal. God help us if Joey didn’t find all the bugs planted in our office because now the feds know what we’re planning.”
Heck, maybe this guy worked for the feds. Who knew?
After finding listening devices planted by federal agents spying on Dad, Joey did regular sweeps of the shop to ensure Lucie’s privacy. The feds must have deemed Lucie a bore or assumed Joey, already known for his sweeps, would tear out any additional devices. Either way, Joey’s weekly searches had since been a bust. Lucie tried not to be insulted by the idea of being irrelevant.
Ro pointed a finger. “Don’t chicken out now. Someone is accusing you of stealing. This could ruin you. We’re not using the information to commit fraud. It’s research. The government does it all the time when they’re building a case.”
Point there. Dad spent two years in the clink and, although it had never come out in trial, the feds knew too much about Joe Rizzo’s finances to not have employed a hacker or two.
Joey strode up, hands in his pockets, big shoulders back. “I walked Otis. Lauren is taking the next two walks so I have some time here.”
“Thank you, Joey. We could have done this alone.”
“My ass,” he said. “This guy isn’t dangerous, but he’s shifty.”
Excellent.
“He’s agreed to help us?”
“Yeah. I called him. We’re good.”
“What did you promise him?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Lucie latched on to the sleeve of her brother’s jacket. “Please tell me you didn’t let him off the hook for what he owes you.”
“I said, don’t worry about it.”
He shrugged her off and headed to the front door. When Lucie shook her head, Ro slipped her arm over Lucie’s shoulder. “Let it go. Whatever deal he made, it’s his business.”
“Yes, but $5,000 is a lot of money. Even if it’s from a degenerate gambler.”
“If you think he’s worried about that, you don’t know your brother at all.”
“It’s not the money. Well, it is the money, but… I don’t know.”
Her brother’s legendary protectiveness should not include forgiving a debt. Not for her.
Joey rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing.
“Great,” Ro said. “He knows we’re coming, right?”
With that, Joey spun back and glared. Most people would melt from the force of that glare. Most people.
“Save it,” Ro said. “You don’t scare me, Joey Rizzo.”
Joey whipped out his phone and shot off a text. He stood perfectly still, but the insane energy contained in his stiff shoulders sizzled in the cold air. He hopped off the porch and stared up at a second story window.
“Hey, dumbass! Get down here and open this door. Don’t make me embarrass you.”
Yeesh. The dumbass wasn’t the only one embarrassed.
Ro let out one of her Queen-of-the-Universe sighs. “Do you have to yell like a savage?”
“Sometimes I do.”
A middle-aged man appeared at the window and held his index finger up.
“If he bolts out the back door,” Joey muttered. “I’ll kill him.”
“You know what?” Lucie held up her hands. “This isn’t worth it. Forget it.”
The front door swung open and the man waved them forward. “Did you have to yell? I have neighbors.”
Joey took the stairs two at a time and faced off with his gambler buddy. “That was the point. You’ve been ducking me for three weeks.”
“Sorry about that. I had—”
“I don’t care. This is my sister, Lucie, and my girlfriend, Ro. Lucie needs help—and you’re gonna give it to her.”
The man’s eyebrows hitched, and his gaze ping-ponged between Lucie and Joey. “Uh, sure. Sure. Come in.” He held his hand to Lucie. “I’m Dean. Pleasure to meet you.”
Nice manners. For a hacker. Which made Lucie even more curious. This guy, with his khaki pants and collared shirt, could be any one of the bankers she worked with before being downsized out of her finance job.
Inside, Joey pointed ahead of him to a set of stairs. At the end of the hallway was another door Lucie assumed accessed a first-floor unit.
Condos.
“You can go up,” Dean said. “Second floor is mine.”
Lucie and Ro climbed the stairs while Joey and Dean stood on the landing, whispering something about a bad bet and making good.
By the time Lucie and Ro reached the second floor, Joey and Dean clomped up behind them.
“We’re all set,” Joey said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yep.” He smacked Dean on the back. “Whatever you need. Let’s get started. I got dogs to walk.”
“So,” Lucie said. “How exactly are we doing this?”
Dean sat at his desk, surrounded by Lucie, Joey, and Ro. For a hacker, his setup was rather mundane. An oversized monitor, an ergonomic keyboard—probably a must in his line of work—and a laptop.
No fancy command center for this guy. Did it matter? Probably not, but she’d been questioning everything about this adventure since they’d left Coco Barknell, so why not his choice of equipment?
If Tim found out about this, he’d have a fit.
Everything else? The illegal hacking, the dishonesty, the invasion of Antoine’s privacy, she could live with. Her justification came in the form of proving her innocence. Her only intent here was to clear her name and find the real thief. Not use Antoine’s personal information for nefarious purposes.
Dean pulled up an email account. “We’ll try a worm.”
“A worm?”
“Yes. An email that contains a virus. I’m including a key logger that’ll log any keystrokes. If he types a password, the key logger captures it and sends it to my server.”
Holy cow, Lucie would never again feel comfortable logging into her bank account. “And you won’t get caught?”
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Dean looked up with a you’re-kidding-me-right? stare. Apparently, Lucie had insulted his highness. Who’d have thought hackers were so sensitive?
“Sorry,” she said, “this criminal stuff is new to me. Can I ask what your credentials are?”
Dean snorted, but when Lucie continued to eyeball him, he straightened up. “You’re serious?”
“Welcome to my world, dude,” Joey said.
Avoiding her scrutiny, Dean went back to his keyboard, engulfing himself in what must have been his own personal security blanket. “My credentials. Huh. Well, let’s see, I hacked into a major bank recently. That was legit. Corporate hired me as part of a security review. They wanted to see if I could get through their firewall.”
Online banking? Never again. “How did that go?”
“For me? Great. For them. Not so good.”
Joey tapped his watch. “Tick-tock, Luce. Time is money.”
If this guy was good enough to be hired by a major bank, he knew his stuff. “Okay. But I don’t want to look.”
Now Dean flat out laughed. “Pardon?”
“You look. Just scroll through his account and tell me if anything is suspicious.”
Yes, that would work. If she didn’t actually see the emails, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty.
“That’s a new one. You realize it’s still illegal, right? No matter how you slice it, it’s unauthorized access.”
Having heard enough, Joey gave Dean a backhanded slap on the shoulder. “Let her justify it however she likes. She’s weird that way.”
“Fine. I’ll need his email address.”
On her phone, Lucie pulled up her contact list, found Antoine’s name, and passed the phone to Dean.
The hacker went to work, crafting an email from the local power company. Fake or not, the correspondence looked horrifyingly official. Logo and everything.
“Wow,” she said, “seriously scary.”
“Eh. This is nothing.”
He hit send and sat back. “Now we wait and see if he opens it. How quick is he with his email?”
They’d have to sit here and wait? That might take hours. Lucie grunted. “Normally he gets back to me in a few hours.”
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