Dog Collar Couture

by Adrienne Giordano

Ro jumped on the task of making coffee, and Lucie grabbed her cell, heading to the back door of the shop. At least in the alley, she might have privacy. If she went out front and one of the guys from Petey’s saw her, they’d all wander down to pepper her with questions about the detectives. That mess would take her an hour to break up.

  Who had that kind of time?

  In the alley all she had to deal with was the stench of garbage. Maybe a rat or two.

  Preferable any day.

  Two rings in, Tim answered.

  “O’Brien.”

  Typically he answered with, “Hey, pretty lady,” or if he was in the middle of something he’d say, “Luce, can I call you back?”

  Either way, whenever she called he always knew exactly who it was. Today? Today he answered with a completely impersonal, forget-about-dating-this-woman greeting.

  “It’s me. Lucie.”

  “Luce, I can’t talk now. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. But I’m sorry. About this morning. If it was awkward.”

  He laughed, but the caustic nature sent Lucie’s shoulders flying back.

  “Awkward,” he said. “Even for you, that was nuts.”

  Um . . . ow. What could she even say? “I’m—”

  “When did you know about the robbery?”

  Sticky territory. Being a girl who valued honesty, she wouldn’t lie to him. Absolutely couldn’t. For a man in law enforcement, he’d stood by her when most cops would have bailed.

  “I had a plan.”

  “Dammit, Lucie. We said full disclosure.”

  “Please. I wanted to tell you last night. I did. I saw it on the news and realized I’d been in the area. I feel like I get in the middle of something illegal, and it’s never my fault, and I worry that you won’t believe that. Or that you’ll lose your job because of who I am.”

  “Lucie—”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you I was there. I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. But then, when I saw you last night, I couldn’t hold it back. That’s what I wanted to tell you when you got called in. But I couldn’t dump it on you when you had to focus on your job.”

  “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

  “No. What I said is true. I planned on calling you first thing this morning. As soon as I got here. Because God knows there’s no privacy at my house. But it was too late.” She stopped talking for a minute, set one hand on her head and squeezed her eyes closed. “I intended to tell you. Please, believe that.”

  A horn blast sounded from Tim’s end, and he let out a stream of swearing that might have melted her ears. “Get the hell out of the way,” he shouted.

  Wowie-wow-wow. Mad Tim. Really mad, Tim.

  “Crazy friggin’ drivers.”

  Look who’s talking. She’d driven with him plenty of times. Just short of a madman behind the wheel.

  Now was certainly not the time to joke about that. “Are you mad at me?”

  “You bet your life I am. Doesn’t mean I’m not still nuts about you. I get it. I took off in a hurry last night. I knew you had something on your mind, and I was gonna call you; but I got busy, and then it was too late.”

  How pathetic would she be if she asked if he’d dump her? With all the things that could possibly go wrong in this scenario, she was worried about the cutie detective breaking up with her? Grow up, Luce.

  “Tim?”

  “Luce, you’re thinking too much. I can feel it. Take a breath. I’m a cop, and my girlfriend is a potential witness in a case I’m working. I gotta get with my lieutenant. Explain it to him, and get taken off this thing.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. I’ll call you later. Please, for God’s sake, lay low for the rest of the day.”

  “Incoming,” Ro said.

  Lucie peeled her eyes from the spreadsheet she’d been scouring for a formula error and found her father opening the shop’s door.

  Not again.

  Third time this morning. Technically, it was afternoon, though.

  Dad stopped in the doorway, and the streaming sunshine formed a weird halo around him. Dad and a halo. There’s a combo she thought she’d never see. He tapped his watch. “Lunchtime. I’m buying.”

  “Dad—”

  “You know,” Ro said, shooting out of her chair, “I could eat. Come on, Lucie. Let’s get some lunch.”

  “But I’m in the middle . . .”

  Halfway to the door, Ro spun on that crazy high heel and gritted her teeth. “Now look, we’re all busy around here, and your father wants to buy us lunch. So, we’re going to let him do that, and then we can come back here and finish what we’re doing. Undisturbed.” She faced Dad. “Isn’t that right, Mr. R.? As soon as Lucie and I come down to Petey’s for lunch, you’ll let us get on with our work. Right?”

  And, yowzer. Ro had just laid down the law in spectacular fashion. Lucie couldn’t help clenching her butt cheeks, anticipating her father’s reaction to being reprimanded. Well, reprimanded in a backhanded sort of way.

  “Sure,” he said. “I mean, you girls have been at it all morning. You need to eat. You come to Petey’s, have a sandwich and then come back to work. I got some stuff to do this afternoon, anyway.”

  That tore it. With Dad out doing whatever the heck he did during his working hours—she really didn’t want to know—Lucie would have an entire afternoon of peace. All she’d have to do is suck-up the next forty-five minutes and go into the dreaded Petey’s for a sandwich.

  With Dad.

  And crew.

  The possibility did exist that she’d run into Frankie’s father, but she was a desperate woman who needed to get her own father the heck out of her hair.

  She bolted up, grabbed her keys and followed Ro to the door.

  Once outside, Ro plucked the keys from Lucie and locked up. “Lunch at Petey’s,” she muttered. “I need a picture of this.”

  The three of them marched into Petey’s, and the aroma of baking bread and cooking meat brought Lucie’s taste buds alive. Her dislike of Petey’s had nothing to do with the food. Exceptional food actually. Her dislike stemmed from the illegal activity Petey allowed to happen there.

  Lucie waved at a few locals seated at a corner table. With only a handful of available seating, Dad’s crew of Jimmy Two-Toes, Slip and Lemon sat at two pushed-together tables along the wall.

  All of them with their backs to the wall so they could see both the front entrance and the hallway leading to the rear door. Mob guys, like cops, always sat with their backs to the wall. You know, just in case someone tried to kill them.

  God help her.

  The one apparent upshot? Frankie’s father was absent.

  Thank you very much.

  “Ho!” Jimmy Two-Toes yelled. “Lucie! How you doin’? Petey! Make Lucie a sandwich. Come here. Take my seat. Whaddya want? A pop? Tea? What?”

  “Jesus, Jimmy,” Lemon said, “Give her a minute. You’re all over her.”

  “What? I’m being nice? I can’t be nice? She never comes in.”

  Oh, boy.

  “Helloooo, fellas.” Ro offered up a little finger wave.

  “Ho!” Jimmy yelled again. “A twofer.”

  Dear. God.

  Dad waved Jimmy back to his chair. “Take it easy. We’ll sit in the back so I can talk to the girls. Luce, you want a turkey sandwich?”

  How sweet was that? Her dad remembered her obsession with turkey sandwiches.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “That sounds good,” Ro added. “Make it two.”

  Ten minutes into the meal, Joey’s giant head appeared outside the window. He poked his index finger into the glass—tap-tap-tap—pointing at Lucie.

  What was this, now? Lauren and the other dog walker were handling things today, so it couldn’t be dog related.

  Lucie pointed at herself and mouthed, “Me?”

  Because, after all, the way he and Ro had been going at it, he might be looking for a nooner.

  But,
nope, he bobbed his head up and down and jerked his thumb for Lucie to step out.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Dad motioned for Joey to come inside, but Joey shook his head.

  “I swear,” Ro said, “he’s insane.”

  Lucie balled her napkin and shoved it under her dish. “Let me see what he needs. I’ll be right back.” Lucie turned back. “Stay here. Both of you.”

  Ro threw her hands in the air. “Well, excuse me, bossy.”

  Great. Now she was mad, too. What a day. Lucie had managed to insult just about everyone she cared about today. And by the looks of it, Joey would be next.

  She slipped through the door, walked a few feet so they’d be out of sight.

  “What’s up?”

  Joey nudged his head backward. “Some guy nosing around your shop.”

  Going up on tiptoes because her brother was the side of a mountain, Lucie peeped over his shoulder. A man, fortyish, with short, dark hair leaned against a light pole checking his phone. He wore dress slacks and a sport coat. Just business casual enough to still be formal, but not so much that he stood out. “Who is he?”

  “Says he’s an investigator. What the hell are you into, now?”

  “An investigator? From where?”

  “Some P.I. firm. I was headed to Petey’s, saw him and asked what he wanted. Name’s Eric Edwards. Edwards Investigations. And he’s looking for you. You want me to get rid of him?”

  “No. He could be a potential client. I’ll talk to him.”

  A client. Good luck with that. The way this day was going, she knew better.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Of course he would. Joey had a protective streak longer than Soldier Field. Typically, it irritated her. He always meant well, but the tendency to be overbearing definitely existed.

  This time, she didn’t mind so much.

  “Yes. Probably a good idea. This has been the craziest day.”

  Joey shifted, held his arm out for her to walk by. “Why?”

  “Two detectives, one of whom was Tim, showed up this morning to ask me about the robbery I may have witnessed yesterday.”

  “Here we go, again.”

  “Add Tim meeting Dad for the first time, and it’s been a real humdinger.”

  Joey halted, right there on the sidewalk and flapped his arms. “Come on? That’s how he met him?”

  “’Fraid so. He took it pretty well. But now that Dad now knows I’m dating an Irish cop, stay alert for an ambush.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that.” As he walked, Joey ran a hand over his right cheek. “I’d hate to have to kick Tim’s ass. I really would.”

  Lucie spun on him. “Hey, no one is kicking anyone’s ass.”

  The man leaning against the light pole glanced up from his phone and focused on them. Apparently, she’d been a wee bit too loud.

  “Hello,” Lucie said. “I’m Lucia Rizzo.”

  “Hello.” He strode toward her, hand extended. “I’m Eric Edwards.”

  Lucie grasped his hand, found it somewhat callused, but soft at the same time. Odd that. But, unlike some men, he didn’t spend too much time on the handshake. No squeeze, no extended eye contact. No sweaty palm.

  Nope. Mr. Edwards was a pro at the handshake.

  Lucie slid her hand away and squared her shoulders. “How can I help you?”

  His gaze moved to Joey and back. “Can we speak privately?”

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “What we’re talking about.” She waggled her thumb at Joey. “This is my brother. If we’re discussing business, as in you would like to hire Coco Barknell, I’m happy to speak privately. If this is regarding something else, Joey stays.”

  Joey inched forward. “What is this about?”

  Mr. Edwards, no slouch himself in the size department, squared his shoulders. Male posturing. Always entertaining.

  “I’ve been hired by Krandall Insurance to investigate the theft of the Maxmillian dress.”

  This day. First the detectives and now an investigator.

  A burst of voices sounded from behind her, and Lucie angled back, spotted her father hooking the left out of Petey’s heading straight for her. Jimmy Two-Toes and Lemon filed in behind, and Ro hustled along in her tight skirt and click-click-clicking heels.

  Lucie’s stomach plummeted. She was good, but she couldn’t handle this bunch. Joey alone could be a challenge. Throw in Dad, his crew, Ro and the investigator and she might as well find a tall building and hurl herself off of it.

  “Wait a second.” Mr. Edwards cocked his head left as Dad approached. “Is that . . .”

  And here we go. As usual, her father’s reputation preceded him.

  “Yes,” Lucie said. “It is. Joe Rizzo. My father.”

  “Holy crap,” Joey said, his eyes plastered to Ro.

  Any second now he would either make some comment on Ro’s appearance or throw his hand over his heart feigning a heart attack. In a lot of ways, it was sweet. In others it felt too caveman.

  But it worked for them.

  “Don’t do it,” Lucie said. “I’ll kill you right on this sidewalk.”

  “Can’t help it,” he said, eyes still tracking Ro and the various body parts that bounced along with her. “That leopard print. It makes me wild.”

  Disregarding Mr. Edwards—certain things needed to be done—Lucie stuck her fingers in her ears. “How many times do I have to say I don’t want to hear comments like that?”

  Joey’s mouth moved, but thank a merciful God, she couldn’t hear what he said. Except that crew was bearing down on them fast, and the realization that this meeting with Mr. Edwards might possibly be witnessed by all of them sent Lucie’s last working nerve into overdrive.

  She pulled her hands down, gripped Joey’s arm, digging her nails in so he’d know how serious she was about to be.

  “Hey,” he said, “go easy with the talons.”

  Mr. Edwards cleared his throat. “Everything okay here?”

  Lucie hit him with a cheery smile as she dragged Joey closer to the oncoming crowd.

  “Listen to me,” she said, her voice deadly calm. “If you love me—forget that—if you like me at all, you’ll stop them. Just do your Joey magic and get them all back to Petey’s for me. Please.”

  “What do I get?”

  God! They didn’t have time for this.

  “I don’t know. Something.”

  “I have your word?”

  “Joey.”

  “All right, all right. Don’t get your shorts in a wad.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take care of this investigator. Just . . . handle Dad.”

  “You owe me.”

  As she headed back to Mr. Edwards, Lucie dug in her pocket for her keys. “I’m sorry about that. Let’s go inside where we can talk without distractions.”

  Inside the shop, Lucie walked to the conference table—that table was seeing some serious action today—and pulled out a chair for Mr. Edwards.

  With Mom not here and Ro outside with Joey, the silence of the shop, the sense of calm despite her visitor, washed over Lucie.

  If only every day could be silent like this.

  She breathed in, enjoyed the moment of silence before sitting forward in her chair. “You said you worked for an insurance company?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s standard with an item as valuable as the Maxmillian dress.”

  “Do you work with the police then?”

  Because if he did, he could get her statement from them, and they could all put her out of her misery.

  “We work hand in hand to recover the lost item. Consider me an extra set of hands hired by the insurance company. I can devote my full attention. The police have other cases.”

  Lucie nodded. “That makes sense. Plus, you basically need to figure out if the insurance company should pay the claim or not.”

  He smiled, not one of those flashy, charming ones, but a half-grin
that told her she’d nailed it. Joe Rizzo didn’t raise no dummy.

  “My goal is to find the truth. If the claim is valid, the owner is reimbursed for the loss. I’m trying to find that dress, Ms. Rizzo.”

  “I understand. How can I help you?”

  The bells on the door jangled, destroying the calm, as Dad marched in with Joey and Ro following. The energy these three brought?

  Mind-bending. Lucie breathed in, fought the wave of hyperawareness prickling the back of her neck.

  “Uh, Joey?” Lucie said.

  He held his hands up. “Hey, I tried. It’s not easy.”

  Mr. Edwards stood and faced Dad and his ornery, squinty eyes. “Hello, Mr. Rizzo. I’m Eric Edwards. I’m a private investigator looking into the theft of the Maxmillian dress.”

  “Again with this dress? She doesn’t know anything. The cops were here this morning.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. I have a few follow-up questions.”

  “Dad, it’s—”

  “This is harassment!”

  Joey moved next to Dad and folded his arms, his big body blocking the exit as if there’d be some kind of smackdown right here in Coco Barknell.

  That’d be great for business.

  Time to pull out the big guns. Or, in this case, the big boobs. Lucie hit Ro with the do-something-now stare. Over the years, they’d perfected their signals and played off of each other to perfection.

  Ro sighed and popped the first available button on her blouse. The one that took her from sexy to slutty. “Joey,” she said, “can I speak to you a moment?”

  Joey got a gander at the enormous amount of cleavage being hurled his way and did a double take.

  So easy.

  “Outside,” Ro said. “Right now. Please.”

  “I’m in the middle of something here.”

  Ro went for the next button, and Joey flinched, his entire body spasming. He jumped in front of Ro to block the view of the other men in the room and grabbed her elbow, leading her to the door. On their way out, she slipped her free hand behind her back and gave Lucie a thumbs up.

  Two down, one to go.

  Awesome teamwork.

  Chances of getting Dad out of this room were below slim. In fact, those chances didn’t exist. She’d have to, as they used to say in her old office, manage up.

  Lucie rose from her chair at the end of the table and scooted over one. Which gave Dad the head of the table and the power position. At least in his mind. Sheer strategic brilliance on her part. “Dad, have a seat. Let’s see if we can help Mr. Edwards.”