The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series Box Set 2, page 55
part #5 of Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
“Who are you people?”
“My name is Tim O’Brien. This is my uncle. He and Mattie are…friends.”
Simon’s gaze shot to Lucie. “You. You’re the daughter.”
“Another dumbass,” Ro said. “Does she look seventeen?”
“Yeah. She kinda does.”
Lucie smacked the air with the case notes. “I am not a teenager! Which only confirms what an idiot you are. Now let go of her or I swear I’ll pummel you.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. The sarcasm, the absolute condescension, fired something primitive and…violent…inside Lucie. All her life she’d been dealing with that from ignorant people who didn’t take her seriously. The searing burn roared from her midsection and shot in all directions.
Done.
And then she was in motion, dropping the case notes, letting them hit the tile with a thwack while she broke from her pack and flew at Torrance. Mattie’s penciled eyebrows hiked to her hairline.
“Luce! Don’t.”
Sorry, O’Hottie.
Between Sonny Peppers trying to kidnap her—on the only vacation she’d had in years—and now this joker being an ass, the madness had to stop.
Had. To. Stop.
“You ruined my fucking vacation!”
Simon’s face bunched. “Huh?”
“Ho!” Dad said. “The mouth on you. Theresa, who the hell taught her that?”
Mom gasped. “Lucia!”
Lucie’s mind roared. From the laundry room Aphrodite banged on the gate again, this time adding a growl to her barking. The deep, dangerous tone erupted in Lucie’s ears, making them clang. She shook her head. Forget Aphrodite. Couldn’t worry about the dog now. Torrance. He needed to be dealt with.
Harshly.
Lucie leveled her gaze on him. Get him. Make his crooked ass pay.
As she charged, Simon swerved right, manhandling Mattie in front of him. She tripped over his foot, her curvy body giving in to momentum and tipping forward. The boobs alone could knock her off balance, but with Simon holding her, the motion propelled him forward, his body hovering over Mattie’s and revealing his back.
Perfect.
Bark, bark. Bark, bark, bark.
“Aphrodite,” Tim said. “Quiet!”
Lucie went airborne and—ooff—landed on Simon, wrapping her legs around his waist. He let go of Mattie, shoving her to the ground, and Lucie smacked him on the head. “Hey! She’s older. Be careful.”
“Luce,” Tim shouted. “Off!”
Nope. No can do. Sorry, pal. For good measure, she smacked Simon again and he swung around, attempting to buck her off.
“Get off me.”
“Do you know what you’ve put us through?” Smack! “And you’re supposed to be a civil servant.” Smack. Smack, smack.
“You tell him, sister!”
Simon whipped hard to his left. Yikes. She may have misjudged the skinny turd’s strength. She tightened her legs and hung on as he whirled. Left, right, left, right. Back and forth he went, nearly dislodging her on that last try. Enough. She locked one arm around his neck and—smack—blasted him again.
Simon gave up on the pivoting and did a full three-sixty.
More barking, then a huge crash came from the laundry room.
Uh-oh. Lucie swung her head left. Aphrodite jumped into the hallway, her nails scraping against the tile as she cut the turn and charged. Let the feasting begin.
Before Lucie got too smug, the realization hit that, yes, she was most certainly on top of Aphrodite’s intended target and would therefore possibly become dog chow along with him.
“If you hurt my baby girl, you S.O.B., I’ll kill you. Do you know who I am?” Dad made a move toward them.
Nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh. “I’ve got this, Dad,” Lucie said. “Aphrodite! No!”
As usual, the dog ignored her and from three-feet away leaped, her strong body slicing through the air. Lucie tightened her hold on Torrance, bracing for the—ooff!—impact.
Torrance readied himself, but the collision tipped him sideways. Somehow, Aphrodite bounced off him and stuck the landing, her powerful jaws snapping, which she locked around his scrawny calf and Torrance shrieked like the wuss he was.
“Joe,” Mom said, her voice packed with enough energy to blow the roof off, “don’t you dare. You’re already on parole.”
“Parole?” Simon said between squeals. “Who are you lunatics? Get this dog off me!”
“Luce!" Someone grabbed her from behind. “Off.”
She snapped her head around and spotted a flash of red hair. Tim attempting to drag her off the low-life, pond scum prosecutor. Ooh, it frosted her how Torrance abused his power. And he was supposed to protect citizens? Puh-lease.
Rat.
Bastard.
She lifted her hand and—whap—smacked him again.
Joey came into view. “Aphrodite,” he said in that low, stern voice that always brought the pups to heel. “Sit.”
The dog paused.
“I said, sit.”
Slowly, Aphrodite planted her butt.
Dammit. How did he always manage that when nothing Lucie ever did worked?
Tim’s arm slid around her waist, sandwiching her between the two men. “Lucie. Get off him. Right now.”
In the months they’d been dating she’d learned his vocal cues. His normal voice had a playful lilt to it. The ultra-quiet meant he’d had a long day and probably saw things on the streets of Chicago he could’ve lived his entire life without. That rough, gravelly edged one?
That was trouble with a capital T.
It meant her hot Irish detective was about to lose his hot Irish temper.
Bam, bam, bam. Holy moly. From the sound of it, someone put a battering ram to Mattie’s front door. Aphrodite leapt into action again, barking and racing that way before Henry managed to grab her collar. “I’ll put her outside,” he said.
“Open up! Police!”
“Ah, Jesus Christmas,” Dad said. “Just what we need.”
Still behind her, Tim got right next to her ear. “This thing just escalated. Get your ass off him so I can deal with the cops.”
She unlocked her legs, released her arm from Torrance’s throat, and found herself sailing backward. For added drama, Torrance let out a gag, followed by a cough. As if she’d really been strangling him.
If she had, he’d know it.
Didn’t stop her from kicking out and blasting him square on the butt. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Ashamed!”
“I’ll have you arrested, and you’ll see who’s ashamed.”
“Ha! Go ahead. I’ve been locked up before.”
His mouth dropped open for a quick second, but nothing came out. Not so tough now, was he? “I have an excellent defense lawyer. Never mind lunch. He eats guys like you for a snack.”
“She’s right,” Dad said. “Do yourself a favor and shut your mouth. In fact,” he dragged his phone from his front pocket. “I’ll call Willie now. Theresa, where’s my glasses?”
“Joe,” Tim said, “put that away. We don’t need Willie. Yet.”
Bam, bam, bam. The knock came again. “Police! Open up.”
Torrance started walking, heading straight for the door. At least until Joey stepped in his path. “Dude, you think I’ll actually let you open that?”
Fifteen
Now that Lucie had both feet on the ground, Tim shoved by Torrance, still being guarded by Joey, who was absolutely big and meaty enough to scare the hell out of any average-sized human. Plus, he had the aggressive stance and unyielding glare of a street fighter.
“Ooh.” Ro sprang into action, bending low and sliding off one of her shoes. She held up the spiked heel of her sandal. “Joey, hold onto him while I carve his eye out.”
Torrance’s face contorted into open-mouthed horror. “Touch me and I’ll have all of you arrested.”
“Good,” Lucie said. “We’ll share a cell with you. Won’t that be fun?”
Tim shook his head as he yanked on the door, revealing two officers on the porch, shoulders back, heads on a swivel as they assessed the activity.
“Good morning, officers,” Tim said. “Come in.”
The first cop, a middle-aged man with graying hair at his sideburns stepped inside, his eyes on Tim as he crossed the threshold. “You on the job?”
Huh. Go figure. Cops had that twisty way of recognizing their brothers in blue. “Yeah. Tim O’Brien, Chicago PD. Down here visiting my uncle.” Tim pointed at Henry. “That’s him.”
The younger cop, a guy in his thirties with a woefully crooked nose that had to have been broken a few times peered at Henry, then came back to Tim. “We got a noise complaint. Barking dog, people screaming, the whole bit. What’s going on?”
Ha. Did he have a week?
“Officers,” Torrance said, “I’m District Attorney Simon Torrance from Boston. These people are holding me against my will.”
“Puh-lease,” Lucie said, sarcasm dripping like gooey maple syrup.
At that, Tim flat-out laughed. “Officers, you might want to call Detective Scanlon. He’s been working a case that I believe has ties to DA Torrance. Talk about prosecutorial misconduct.”
“He’s lying.” Torrance pointed at Mattie. “This woman is a fugitive from justice. I’m down here to apprehend her.”
Still holding her shoe, Ro flicked it in the air. “Keep talking. I’ll take out both eyes.”
Sighing, the older cop faced Tim again. “Let me guess, she’s the wildcard.”
“You have no idea.” Tim jerked a thumb at Torrance. “But this guy? He’s no slouch. Ask him if Mattie is such an important fugitive, why he’s here. And not an investigator.”
The older cop gestured at Torrance. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why is that?”
“The case is special to me. I wanted to see her brought to justice myself.”
“So you came alone?” The cop shook his head. “Sorry. Not buying it. What case does this involve with Scanlon?”
“Sonny Peppers,” Tim said. “Detective Scanlon will know it.”
The cop cued the radio clipped to his shoulder. “Dispatch, I need Detective Scanlon at my location. It’s regarding the Sonny Peppers case.”
A minute later, after confirming the detective was on his way, the cop brought his attention back to the room.
“Everyone sit down and tell us what the hell is going on. And you,” he pointed at Ro. “Put that shoe on before I have to cuff you.”
“Ooh,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be amusing?”
From his spot against the living room wall, Detective Scanlon reviewed his notes, then looked up at Tim who sat on the sofa. “What you’re telling me is District Attorney Torrance here prosecuted a fraud case involving Ms. Mournay’s father—”
“Berringer,” Mattie said. “That’s my real name.”
“Sorry. Ms. Berringer’s father and the real estate executive from That Girl.”
Lucie nodded. “Correct. Ms. Berringer’s father was the contracted real estate broker for That Girl. He’d locate potential buildings for new stores or for those needing to move. Both were convicted of fraud. They were in cahoots with four developers and a man named Paul Landon.”
Scanlon checked his notes again. “And Landon was the real estate executive’s father.”
“From what we could piece together,” Tim said, “it looks like he connected the developers to Mr. Berringer, who took the deal to Mr. Landon’s son. Mr. Berringer would work out a deal for retail space priced higher than the market average and Landon, the son, would approve the deal on behalf of That Girl. The developers got high rental income or sold the building at an inflated price due to the profitable leasing deal.”
“The new owners inherited the lease?”
“You got it. The executive and Mattie’s father would take a percentage of all the deals. That Girl executives, after spending so much on real estate, eventually figured it out. Landon and Berringer were busted.”
“What about Paul Landon?”
Torrance sat taller. “My office has been unable to make a case against him.”
Lucie poked her finger. “Because you haven’t tried. It’s taken us days to tie this thing together. You’ve had eight months.”
“You’re a liar.”
Off came Ro’s shoe. She studied the heel for a few seconds, running one finger over it and then wagging it at Torrance. “Keep it up, you. The rage I’m feeling about my weekend at the beach being ruined is only getting worse.”
The older cop snorted. “You’re a piece of work.”
“You have no idea,” Tim, Joey and Lucie all said.
“Everyone be quiet,” Scanlon said. He pointed at Tim’s notepad sitting on the coffee table. “Give me what you’ve got.”
Lucie held up her hand. She wanted to bury Torrance on behalf of all unfairly judged daughters. “The summary is that we were able to tie the four developers, including a company formed by Mr. Berringer, together by the registered agent on their shell companies.”
“Why did Berringer form a shell?”
Mattie shook her head. “I’m not sure. He made me a partner in it, though. I trusted him, and he forged my signature on the papers.”
“My thought,” Lucie said, “is Mr. Berringer wanted a bigger cut and intended on buying a building, renting it to That Girl and then selling it. Like all the developers, he formed a corporation in Wyoming.”
“Privacy laws,” Scanlon said.
“Yes. It’s hard to crack a shell there.”
Scanlon waved his notepad at Torrance. “And he comes in how?”
“His stepfather is Grant Berwyn, owner of Fontina Capital. One of the Wyoming companies. We haven’t gotten far enough yet, but we believe the reason the elder Landon hasn’t been arrested is because he can tie Mr. Torrance’s stepfather to the illegal deals.”
Scanlon met Torrance’s eye. “You’re protecting him.”
“Detective,” Torrance said, “you can’t possibly believe this fiction.”
Fiction? They’d see about that. “We have enough evidence to throw suspicion his way. Plus, we think he hired Sonny Peppers to scare Mattie.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Torrance believes Mattie knows something, and Grant is probably afraid she’ll talk. Sonny told us he picked up his payment from a building owned by Paul Landon. We think Mr. Torrance, on behalf of his stepfather, is actually the one who hired Sonny. By setting up that money drop at that building they gave themselves a layer of protection. If something happened and Sonny got caught, which he did, Paul Landon would be blamed.”
“Fiction!”
“Ro, get that shoe ready.”
“You know it, sister.”
Tim sighed, the two cops laughed, and Scanlon banged his fist against his forehead. A typical day in Rizzoville.
Scanlon straightened up. “Here’s what we’ll do. Tim, Lucie, and Mattie, you’re with me.” He gestured to the cops. “You’ve got DA Torrance. Everyone is coming to the station while we sort this out.”
Lucie smacked both hands against her legs. “Good.” She poked a finger at Torrance. “You’re going down, mister.”
That evening, after hours at the police station, Mattie, Henry, Lucie, Tim, and the Rizzo crew sat around the fire pit in Mattie’s yard with much-needed beverages—from wine to bourbon to Lucie’s choice of lemonade. She was so exhausted that even a sniff of alcohol might drop her.
The temperature had dropped into the sixties, adding a chill to the air and giving Lucie an excuse to wrap herself in a throw she’d swiped from a giant basket in Mattie’s living room.
She gazed across the snapping flames and found Mattie focused on her. “I like this blanket. I may steal it.”
“Help yourself. I owe you at least that.” She broke away and took in the group. “I don’t know how to thank you all.”
Tim swirled his bourbon and watched the reflection of the flames dance against the glass. “Don’t thank us yet. We’re not nearly done.”
“I know, but for eight months I’ve been living this crazy life. Separated from my daughter, lying to Henry. It’s been…hard.”
Beside her, Henry clasped his hand over hers. The two exchanged a long look that Lucie hoped meant they might try to work things out.
Tim chugged the shot left in his glass. If he could have mainlined it, he probably would’ve. When finished, he held it up. “The good news is there’s enough evidence to secure warrants and bring in a special prosecutor to sort the whole mess out. He probably had Sonny Peppers deliver that flyer about the building. Perfect way to make it look like Landon was the one who’d found you.”
“That’s just evil,” Lucie said.
“That’s only the start. I’m gonna guess Torrance has been burying evidence. At a minimum, he’ll get disbarred.” He faced Mattie. “The police may need your help.”
“I’ll give them whatever they need. I want my life back. I was terrified. Now, because of all of you, I’m free again and can bring my daughter home.” She met Henry’s gaze again. “I want her to see where I live now. I’d like you to meet her. If that’s what you want.”
For a moment, Henry stayed silent. With grown children of his own, would he even want to take on a teenager?
“I’d like that,” he said.
“Blah, blah,” Joey said, “can you two do this later? I mean, I don’t need to know all this.”
Ro let out a huff and gave him one of her hairy-eyeball death glares. “Oh, my God. Really?”
“Don’t start,” Lucie said. “Please. I’m absolutely begging you.”
“That’s it. I’m out.” Dad set his empty rock glass on the side table between him and Mom. “Let’s go, Theresa. There’s gotta be a game on I can watch.”
“Come on, Dad,” Joey said. “It’s early. You hungry? I could eat.”
Joey always did love their father’s company. Dad stood then held his hand to Mom, who grabbed hold and let him guide her from her chair.
“Sure, son.”
“I’m on a diet,” Ro said.
