The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series Box Set 2, page 10
part #5 of Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
"It did. The issue was in the…timing…of when he sent the money. That’s really all I can say."
Given her finance background, Lucie understood. "He held on to the money, earned interest on it, and then cut her a check.”
If true, that could have been a lot of money. Buzzy’s net worth had been a reported $550 million.
"Hello, ladies."
Oh, boy.
At the sound of her father's voice, Lucie glanced up. When did he ever step into the restaurant he owned?
The entire city knew the place was a front—one that failed to keep him out of prison—so he could show legitimate income.
He stood next to the table in black slacks with a crease so sharp it could have beheaded someone and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. Since getting out of prison, he'd gained ten pounds. The weight had filled out his angular face, and he'd let his hair grow a tad longer so he could comb it straight back and have it stay in place. The old Joe. The dapper, media darling Joe. Notoriety, charm, and the olive-skinned good looks that made movie stars legends.
He was a legend all right.
Across from her, Reece's eyes got big. Lucie couldn't blame her. How often did one come face to face with the most notorious Chicago mob boss since Al Capone?
"Dad, this is Reece."
"Nice to meet you. I got some food on the way."
"Um," Reece said, "I need to get back to work. Thank you though."
"Eh. You'll take it to go then."
Reece stood, her fingers automatically going to her coat buttons. She made quick work of the job and rewrapped the creepy clown scarf around her neck.
Joey approached the table carrying two trays loaded with sandwiches and fries. Before the tray even hit the table, Lucie inhaled the aroma of roasted beef and herbs. Add the fresh fried potatoes and...maybe she could eat. Honestly, who did her father think would consume all this? Joey ate like a dinosaur, but he and Tim combined couldn’t handle that much food.
They loaded Reece up with bags of food and she scooted before Lucie could ask any follow-up questions. Thanks, Dad.
Never one to let an opportunity pass, Dad commandeered Reece’s seat. Joey plunked down next to him.
"You two eat." Dad looked at Lucie. "Especially you. Put a little meat on those bones."
"Dad!"
"What? It wouldn't hurt you to eat a little more. At least now you don't look like we starve you. Moving back home put weight on you."
Beside her, Joey snorted and Dad gave him a winning smile.
"Hey, Joe," a man called as he strode by with his tray of food.
"Oh, hey," Dad said. "Good to see you. Thanks for coming in."
Dad's fan club. All it took was one person to kick off a chorus of hellos.
And it begins...
Lucie unwrapped a sandwich—no sense letting it go to waste—and popped a fry into her mouth. "Dad, what are you doing here?"
"I followed you."
Mid-chew, Lucie gulped her food down. "You followed us?"
"Yeah. When your mother said she was working at your office, I wanted to know what you were doing."
Seriously, she needed to move out of Villa Rizzo. "I'm trying to get Ro out of jail."
"Tim know about this?"
"I'm not talking about Tim."
"He doesn't know. Better that way."
Only a mob boss would think keeping secrets about a murder investigation was a good thing.
"The broad that just left, who is she?" Dad's mouth dipped. "She needs a nicer scarf. I mean, clowns?"
Again Joey let out a laugh. These two.
Lucie munched another fry. "She works for Buzzy Sneider's company. She said there was drama between Buzzy's sister and agent. I'll call Buzzy’s sister and see if I can set up a meeting. I'll tell her in light of the tragedy, I'd like to see if we can resolve this issue about the designs Buzzy stole. God rest her soul."
"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.
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."
