The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series Box Set 2, page 18
part #5 of Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
If she came home.
Damn it.
Lucie slid her purse onto her shoulder then turned back to Lorraine, still holding that tablet.
The backup. Gone.
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
Poor Felix. That little guy might be suffering from trauma over seeing his owner murdered. If only he could tell them what he saw.
Lucie halted as a wicked hiss stung her ears.
December 6. The day of the murder. No video. The only day missing. Last Lucie checked, dead people couldn’t delete computer files.
Lucie eyed the hallway in front of her. The front door. Her way out. Just leave.
She should go. Get out of this crazy situation and go back to her office. Back to running Coco Barknell.
Ro.
Lucie pulled her gaze from the door to Lorraine, still standing near the study entrance.
"Get out," Lorraine said.
Lucie met her cold stare. "I'm going. I have a question first."
"Fine. What?"
"Why did you delete that backup?"
Sixteen
Run.
Something inside, deep in Lucie's brain, screamed it. Run. Run. Run. She eyed the front door again. Probably locked. But she had a straight shot. Even if Lorraine cut through the study, Lucie would get the jump on her.
What was she running from? She'd yet to figure out what had happened. Maybe someone else, one of Buzzy's legion of assistants deleted that file.
Except, Lorraine wasn't denying it. Lucie had asked her straight out.
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
Lorraine screwed up her face and stomped toward Felix. "Shut the fuck up!"
Oh, boy. Looney Lorraine.
"I've been listening to that bird night and day since my sister died. He never stops. It's constant. Now I'm done."
Lucie had a flash of panic, a vision of Felix, his little claws clinging to his perch as Lorraine swung that cage in a fit of rage.
Nuh-uh. If nothing else, Lucie would save a defenseless bird. In honor of Ro, whom she’d failed, she'd save the PITA bird.
She caught up to Lorraine and elbowed around her, forming a human shield in front of Felix's cage.
She worked up her best Lucie sneer and put a little mean into it. "Don't you touch him. He's grieving. And, and...he's pissed because he saw—"
Whoopsie. Couldn't say that. Saying that equaled throwing bloody bait into shark infested waters.
Lorraine faced her again, her eyes hyper-focused and burning. "He saw her die. I know. But it was an accident."
Lucie's head snapped back.
An accident. Again, Lucie eyed the exit. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
"Sure," she said. "I get it. It's not Felix's fault though. Let's just stay calm here."
"I'm calm. Trust me. After the week I've had, I'm an expert at calm. Now is no exception." Lorraine took one step forward. "We have a problem, Lucie."
Problem? What problem? No problem.
Run.
Lucie pointed over her shoulder to the door. "If you're okie-dokey here, I'll just—"
Lorraine’s hand whipped out, locking on Lucie's arm.
Well, apparently they were going there.
Lucie backed farther into the room, bumped a side chair, and, with Lorraine’s hold tightening, slid sideways. The chair held two throw pillows. Fairly useless weapons, but a girl had to work with what she had. She reached down, gripped a corner of one of the pillows, and something in Lorraine’s crazy eyes flashed.
Ffffttt. Lucie whipped the pillow, yanked free of the vise-like grip, and bolted, her feet gaining traction on the area rug.
Front door. Right there. Just feet away.
Oooofff! Something slammed into her, a huge blast of weight that rocked her. The tablet flew as Lucie went airborne, her body hurling forward, crashing into the couch and jarring her shoulder.
Ignoring the pain, she rolled to her back, and found Lorraine getting to her feet after that tackle fit for the Bears defensive line. She leaped and Lucie started swinging, her bunched hands sliding off Lorraine’s shoulders and arms.
Hey, no one ever said she rivaled Muhammad Ali. Ro had always been the brawler.
"Stupid," Lorraine said. "You couldn't mind your own damned business. It was an accident."
Lorraine reared back, cocking a fist, and Lucie bucked—hard—knocking her off balance, then bucking again to finish the job. Lorraine tipped sideways, half rolling off and leaving Lucie use of her left leg. She kicked out, did a weird shimmy-kick-shimmy routine, and managed to shove the lunatic off.
Now this bitch is mine.
Lucie bounced to her feet, jumped on her attacker and grabbed two fistfuls of hair.
"Aaaaaa!" Lorraine screamed. "Get off me."
A huge bam sounded from the entry way and the front door flew open. Tim burst through, weapon drawn, and something in Lucie's chest exploded.
Thank God, he's here. Her man.
"Off," he shouted in his cop voice.
Lucie put her hands up.
"I didn't do anything. It's her. I think she killed her sister. The parrot saw the whole thing."
"Don't move," Tim shouted as relief, that enormous release of pressure, flew from his shoulders.
That moment of panic when he'd heard the screaming probably took what was left of his stomach and an additional few years from his life.
And here was peanut Lucie, beating the crap out of Buzzy's sister.
Not bothering to listen, Lorraine shoved at Lucie. "Get off me."
"Luce," Tim said. "Off."
How many freaking times had he said that to her in the last months? Somehow, in her never-ending quest to right wrongs, she always wound up jumping someone. He'd give her credit for being fearless.
She rolled to her feet, taking a fighter's stance, ready to pounce again if necessary. Unbelievable.
Tim jerked his head at Lorraine. "On your feet."
"This is absurd."
"I'm sure it is." In his mood, if she tried anything, he'd lock her up for aggravating him.
Two armed detectives hustled into the house, spotted him, and stopped short.
"Tim O'Brien," he said, angling so they could see the badge hooked on his belt.
Tim didn't know them, but assumed they were the lead detectives on the Sneider case.
The female detective stepped forward, holstered her weapon and badged him. "We talked to your lieutenant. Whatcha got?"
"This is Lorraine Sneider, sister of Buzzy Sneider, and Lucie Rizzo. I walked in and found the two of them wrestling it out. I just got them up off the floor."
"Thanks," the other detective said.
The female detective, Sorenson, stepped toward Lorraine. "I need to pat you down, do you have any weapons on you? Anything in your pockets?"
Lorraine gasped. "Of course not."
She gave her a cursory pat down then turned to Lucie, who still had her hands up. Tim nearly laughed.
After ascertaining the ladies weren't carrying, the detective sat them both on opposite chairs. Lorraine on the sofa and Lucie in a side chair. Sorenson took the remaining seat. Her partner wandered toward the kitchen, looking all around as he went. Tim stayed near the door, out of the action.
"All right," Sorenson said, "what happened here?"
Lorraine jumped right in. "I caught her snooping on my sister's tablet. Isn't that invasion of privacy or something? I want her arrested."
"Hey," Lucie said, "I was trying to find a security video from the night of the murder. I'd think you'd want to know who killed your sister. Apparently not."
Lorraine gritted her teeth and Lucie made a zipping motion across her lips.
Sorenson raised her hands. "Ladies, please. Ms. Sneider, let's start with this security video."
"I don't know anything about it."
Tim wasn't going for that. She had to know something. Who else but the closest family members would have access to Buzzy's personal affairs? Well, other than the army of assistants.
Lucie cut her eyes to Lorraine. "Someone deleted it."
Sorenson exchanged a look with Tim. He sympathized, but this wasn't his first Lucie rodeo. So he just shrugged and kept his mouth shut.
The detective faced Lucie again. "How do you know?"
"Mmmm, well, because I logged into Buzzy's account. I mean, I know I shouldn't have, but Lorraine was busy and I had the password for the tablet. I wanted to see if the backup was there."
The fact that Lucie had the password for the tablet seemed to surprise Sorenson. Hell, it surprised Tim—and that was saying something. After months with the Rizzo crew, he'd become hardened to shock factor.
Sorenson jumped all over that. "Why did you have the password?"
"Felix gave it to me."
"Who's Felix?"
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
The squawk brought Tim around to the cage sitting by the window. Who'd have thought such a small bird would have such a projectable voice?
"I hate that bird," Lorraine said. "He's been screaming at me for days."
Lucie jabbed a finger at the cage. "He saw something. 5511 is the password for the tablet. That's how I knew to try it. When I logged in, the video from the day Buzzy died was the only one missing."
Her face twisted into that scrunched-up look of determination Tim had fallen in love with. But a parrot witness? Even for her, a stretch.
"You shut up!"
Whoa, now. Lorraine getting uppity. Tim shifted sideways, closer to Lucie, in case another smack down ensued.
"I won't shut up. I’ve been to Buzzy’s house and she kept Felix in the same room where—” Lucie rolled one hand. “—you know. That poor bird is a witness."
Sorenson sighed. "What a freak show."
Her partner entered the room and scooped the tablet off the floor. "I got the tablet."
Lorraine’s eyes shot to the device, then to the detective's gloved hands, and her Adam's apple bobbed.
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off! Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off! Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
"Oh, God." Lorraine pressed her palms into her eyes and held them there as she rocked forward.
The room went silent, all the remaining players refusing to move or speak because, in Tim's experience, escalating tension made things happen. Made people talk when they should stay silent.
Come on, Lorraine, start yapping.
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off! Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
"Lorraine," Sorenson said, above the squawk, "are you all right?"
The woman sat perched on the edge of her seat, her arms tucked around her middle, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. A tight band of tension snapped at the back of Tim's neck.
Sensing something, Sorenson scooted closer. "You know, it's been a tough week. You've been cooperative with us since this started. Is there anything you'd like to add?"
"Don't fucking do it! 5511! Piss off!"
Lorraine’s shoulders dropped, just absolutely fell, as the energy and fight seemed to leave her body. Tim glanced at Lucie, the two of them exchanging a bewildered look. If she didn't keep her mouth shut, he might have to kill her. Or himself. Finally end the misery.
"I don't know," Lorraine said.
"About what?"
Lorraine snorted. "Everything." She met Sorenson's gaze and tears bubbled in her eyes. "My sister is dead."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It was an accident."
An accident. She knew something. This is it. Tim stood stock still, fighting the brutal assault of energy plowing into him. This wasn't his case, but damn he wanted to jump in. Hop all over this woman and get some answers before she lawyered up.
"All right," Sorenson said, her voice even and controlled. "Can you tell me about it?"
A few seconds of quiet ensued until Lorraine shook her head and let out breathy sigh that screamed of exhaustion. "We were...tipsy," she said. "Celebrating the sales of the Coco Barknell designs." She turned her head to Lucie. "I'm sorry, by the way. I really am. We did steal them. With all the press about the fashion show, Buzzy wanted to strike while things were hot. She thought she could make a deal with you after the fact. It was a timing thing."
Giving up on his quest to appear unfazed, Tim rolled his eyes. A timing thing. Right.
Sorenson rose from her chair and sat on the coffee table in front of Lorraine, cocking her head in that sympathetic way women did when talking their friends off a ledge. "I know this is difficult for you. She was your sister. Accidents happen all the time. What happened? You said you were drunk."
Lorraine nodded, wiped her drippy nose with her hand. "Yes. Buzzy left the office early and told me to meet her at the house. When I arrived, she'd already downed half a bottle of wine. By the time we finished the second bottle, we were giggly and got on the subject of how I used to give her wedgies all the time. We laughed about it. I thought it would be funny to wedgie her." Lorraine splayed her fingers wide and put her hands out. "I swear that's all I was doing. Being funny."
"Understandable," Sorenson said. "What happened?"
"I grabbed the waistband of her underwear and yanked, you know? Just sort of tugging. We were laughing so hard because it wasn't going well, and that made us laugh harder. The more I yanked, the more her feet came off the floor and we were just...being stupid. Buzzy started screaming. She kept saying 'Don't fucking do it! Don't fucking do it!' but she was laughing. And so was I. We were having fun."
Without moving her head, Lucie slid her gaze to Tim. Holy hell, not only was the parrot a witness, he'd just helped them solve this case.
"Then what happened?"
"Stupid wine. I never could hold my liquor. I pulled her underwear so hard, I knocked her off balance and she fell." Lorraine cuffed herself on the head. "She hit her head on the edge of that enormous marble table she has."
That explained the head trauma. Tim hadn't seen the criminologist's report and the brass wasn't sharing details, but he suspected Sorenson knew something about what had clubbed Buzzy on the head. Using the size and shape of the head wound as a guide, forensic pathologists would have determined possible weapons.
"Did it knock her out?"
"I guess. She fell over." Lorraine's mouth dipped at the corners and she closed her eyes. "I thought she was goofing around. She used to do that when we were kids. She'd pretend to be asleep and then leap up and attack me. While she was on the ground, I gave her the wedgie. Pulled it way up."
Lorraine pounded her fists against her head, tears now sliding over her cheeks. "I thought I was being funny. You know, doing an atomic wedgie."
Tim forced himself not to look at Lucie. Homicide by atomic wedgie.
Only in Lucie's world could that happen.
"I was too drunk to realize she wasn’t pretending to be asleep. After teasing her, I put my head back for a second and passed out. I swear, when I fell asleep the waistband was on her head. She must have woken up or moved or something. I don't know. But I didn't put it around her neck. I wouldn't have done that. I loved her."
Lucie produced a wad of tissues from her pocket. No, don’t. Tim gritted his teeth. Helluva time for Lucie to be thoughtful. He adored her for it, but she'd kill the momentum and...too late.
She handed the tissues to Lorraine. "They're clean."
“Thank you. You really are a nice person. I’m sorry I broke into your shop and ruined all those samples.”
“You did that?”
Lorraine squeezed her eyes closed. “I panicked. I knew you were asking questions and thought I could scare you off.”
Sorenson shot Lucie a look then went back to Lorraine. "We’ll get to that later. Tell us about Buzzy. You passed out and then what?"
"I woke up to the doorbell ringing and Felix screaming."
The doorbell. That must have been Roseanne.
"I came out of my stupor and saw the underwear around her neck." Lorraine touched her throat, gliding her fingers over her skin. "She must not have been able to tear it off. I panicked, cut the underwear off and called 911, but it was too late. By the time they got there, she was gone."
Lorraine looked over at Lucie. "You were right. While I was waiting for the ambulance, I freaked. I dumped the wine bottles, put the glasses in the dishwasher, and...deleted the video from Buzzy’s account. I was scared and under the influence and made a stupid decision. Then I remembered the online backup and deleted that one too." She went back to Sorenson. "I killed my sister."
Seventeen
"That dirty, lying witch," Lucie said.
She stood next to Tim's car, hands on hips, fuming over the injustice while detectives loaded Lorraine into their vehicle.
Poor Ro had been arrested and subjected to scrutiny and now, Lucie knew, even with Lorraine’s confession, the story would probably never go away. It was too big. Too juicy. A famous reality star and an associate of the Rizzo crime family. It had made-for-television-movie all over it.
"Yep," Tim agreed. "Fear makes people do crazy things."
"So, not only did they steal Ro's work, Lorraine would have let her go to prison to save her own butt. And she almost got away with it." She shook her head. "I don't get people. How is this world so crazy?"
Tim faced her, his fair cheeks red from the cold, and set his hands on her shoulders. "Eventually, it would have come out. That missing video was a red flag. The detectives would have narrowed that down."
"Still, the deceit. It's horrible."
"Yes, it is."
"And she had the nerve to organize that protest to make people believe Ro was guilty."
He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. She breathed in, snuggling against him for a few seconds, taking it all in. The comfort, the solid foundation he provided when her world blew apart. And after the week they'd had, she welcomed it.
She tilted her head back and smiled. "Thank you for that. I was afraid you were mad at me."
He shrugged. "I'll admit, you're slowly killing me. I get it though. And you know what this means, right?"
Oh, she knew. She'd been through enough trials with her father to understand the intricacies of cases that fell apart. "Ro will be released."
