Veiled Threat Read online

  “No news. Not tonight. What about movies?” She’d splurged on basic cable last month but still only used the TV late at night or on Saturday mornings.

  Click. “No reality shows, either.” Click. ESPN. Click. Sitcom reruns. Click. More reruns. Click. C-SPAN. Several more clicks. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed singing “Buffalo Gals.”

  She hit the off switch and pushed away the remote. “I don’t care how much I love It’s a Wonderful Life. I am not going to end the day crying into the couch cushions.”

  Instead, she powered up her antiquated boom box and put in Denver and the Mile High Orchestra’s Timeless Christmas. Sunday’s crossword puzzle sat unfinished on the other end of the table. She cut her first piece of chicken and studied the clues while chewing. The energetic, happy music made her smile, finally.

  “That’s more like it.” She tapped her foot to “Sleigh Ride” as she filled in another clue.

  The meager scattering of gifts under the little tree tried to depress her. What good is Christmas without family? it whispered in her ear. Dozens of your relatives are stuffing presents under their trees and planning the huge Christmas Day dinner and gift frenzy. Too bad those relatives don’t talk to you now that you ditched the convent. Enjoy your second Christmas alone.

  She finished the last forkful of chicken. Very good, even if it was bad manners to compliment one’s own cooking. Despite her shrewish conscience, she knew she wasn’t alone. She’d spend Christmas Day at the soup kitchen again, adding homemade jam to the adults’ trays and dollar-store toys to the kids’ trays as she dished up their food. In other words, Giulia Falcone seriously needed to get over herself.

  The presents under the tree—no matter how few—proved she had friends, if not family. More homemade jams for Laurel and Anya; chandelier earrings for Mingmei, the barista downstairs from Driscoll Investigations; and her own sauce for Sidney, since the jams used sugar. The sauce was 100 percent natural. She’d already mailed Sister Bart’s gift: the same CD she was listening to right now. Sister Bart needed some fun in her life after surviving Father Ray and Sister Fabian.

  Giulia dithered for a moment about giving Frank a gift, like she dithered at least once a day. Employees don’t give gifts to the boss. But they were more than employee and boss. But she shouldn’t initiate gift-giving—it wasn’t proper.

  “Lord above, Falcone, what a flake you are. Grow a spine and give him a Christmas present. You know you want to.”

  The perfect idea came to her while she washed the dishes: coupons for home-cooked meals. Frank ate at burger joints or chain restaurants and refused to go back to his parents’ even for Sunday dinner. All part of his youngest-child, “I can make it on my own” quest.

  She’d have to create the coupons on her work computer since she didn’t own a PC. Frank would laugh at that—another instance of out-of-touch Giulia. Cosmo might not approve of her gift. Too domestic. Unless she found a Little French Maid outfit to cook in.

  She snorted into the dishwater. Not likely.

  FIVE

  AT NINE FIFTY TUESDAY morning the Cottonwood Police Station looked more like an empty stage setting than an overworked, understaffed division of town law enforcement. Frank and Giulia hung their coats in the entrance-hall closet as the phone rang at the receptionist’s desk. A Bond Girl wannabe picked it up on the second ring. Her strobe-light smile blinded Giulia as her manicured hand waved both of them back into the central office.

  Six desks practically on top of each other. Computer screens all in password-protected lock mode—most obscured by coffee mugs and stacks of file folders. Scuffed linoleum flooring, well-used rolling chairs, and not a human in sight.

  They wove between the desks toward the glass-paneled door marked James Reilly, Captain, next to the kitchen. Frank turned the handle. As though he’d tripped a switch, three telephones began to ring and officers piled into the room. Two headed for the kitchen.

  “Hey, Driscoll.” The taller one paused on the threshold. “Basketball’s canceled this week.”

  “I know,” Frank said. “Next week’s still on, right?”

  “Yeah. Joe, pour me one, willya?”

  “Make your own,” the detective already in the kitchen said. “I’ve got the last of this pot.”

  “Asshole,” the tall detective said without heat. “I hope the next old lady runs over your Harley.”

  “Up yours,” Joe said with a smile. He made a show of sipping his coffee. “Perfect.”

  Frank ushered Giulia into the office and closed the door. “Charming, aren’t they?”

  The door opened again. “They just need a woman they can respect to keep them in line. Good morning, Giulia. Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. Emergency meeting.”

  “Good morning, former boss,” Frank said.

  “Since when do I need to be polite to you, former subordinate?” Jimmy winked at Giulia. “Good morning, Frank. Be grateful you’re no longer a member of this department. We’re getting flak from all sides over all these idiots driving their cars into storefronts.”

  “If you’d arrest more of these delinquents, it might deter the others.”

  “Do grandparents qualify as delinquents? I never thought the geriatric crowd would give me more grief than teenagers who text while driving. If the state would make yearly eye tests mandatory for drivers over sixty-five, my job would be a helluva lot easier.” He pulled a chair away from his desk. “Coffee, Giulia?”

  “Thank you, no.” She sat. “I saw the latest accident on the news. At least this time no one was hurt.”

  “Frank, you want coffee?”

  “I’ll get it for myself. Behave.”

  Giulia smiled up at Jimmy. “This is where you tell me how much better I’ll have it if I come work for you.”

  “Well …”

  “And this is where I tell you, as politely as possible, that I’m happy where I am.”

  Frank’s wide shoulders filled the doorway. “And this is where I’m glad that I don’t mind black coffee when the need arises. Didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  Jimmy grinned. “Doggedness. It got me where I am today.”

  Giulia seized the opening. “I’m just as persistent. Thank you for letting us come talk to you this morning.”

  His grin flattened. “I’m not happy about this, but you both know that. Frank, close the door.”

  When the escalating chaos in the outer room dimmed, he sat at his desk. “I don’t have to tell you that in an ordinary situation I’d rip Frank a new one rather than let you in on a police case.” He cleared his throat. “My apologies. But you have to realize, Giulia, that this is our job. The police have a handle on this situation, especially since the parents refuse to contact the FBI.”

  Giulia sat as though she was interviewing for the job he was always after her to take. “With respect, Captain, I think there are important ancillary facts that require more emphasis placed on them. The other kidnappings, first of all.”

  “The other—wait a minute.” He clicked his mouse several times. “There’s a footnote in the report, but …” He picked up his phone and punched two numbers. “Poole, my office.”

  A beardless Abraham Lincoln entered a minute later.

  Jimmy looked up from his screen. “Poole, the Drury-Sandov kidnapping. What’s this about copycats?”

  Poole shrugged. “The women yammered about dead babies up in Ohio and Erie somewhere. Months ago. Didn’t mean a thing.” His deep voice sounded like a classic Lincoln portrayal, but its scorn belonged to a TV political talking head. “Davis and I are thorough. It’s in the report.”

  Giulia dug her fingernails into her palms. “Excuse me. This kidnapping isn’t a copycat. It’s the third in a series.”

  His expression dismissed her. “Anything else, Cap?”

  Jimmy’s gaze took in all three of them. “Yes. Unless you want six weeks of retraining, work on your definition of ‘thorough.’ I know Davis thinks you’re God’s gift to rookies, but if I catch him co
pying your attitude, I’ll reassign both of you.”

  Poole glared at Giulia and Frank. “You’re telling me that you think those—women know more about investigations than me?”

  Frank gave him a cold smile. “Nothing changes around here, does it?”

  Poole sneered. “That’s why you’re here, Driscoll? Cap still thinks you got some magic insight spell that’ll solve the case and get your picture in the paper?”

  “Enough.” Jimmy slammed his hand on a stack of manila folders. “Poole, I’ll talk to you and Davis later. Close the door behind you.”

  Jimmy dropped his head into his hands. “Asshole. So much for the speech I had all planned out for this meeting.” He sat up and turned his monitor toward the end of the desk. “I will now do something officially stupid but morally correct. Come around here, you two.”

  Giulia clamped down hard on her own speech. Unproductive. Katie’s important. Not that idiot. Take it out at the gym tonight.

  The small office appeared to shrink further as the three of them crowded into the corner. The monitor was not quite large enough to show two documents side-by-side at a legible size.

  “Frank, I was all set to tell you to quit straddling the fence. You’re not a cop anymore and all that. But I didn’t realize Poole was still butthurt over always being in your shadow.”

  “What about his partner?” Frank said.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I won’t get anything useful from Davis. He thinks Poole’s the Ultimate Cop, no matter what. Rookies.” He eyed Frank. “I remember getting saddled with a wide-eyed rookie once. Giulia, did he ever tell you about the drunk nursing mother who squirted us with breast milk when we tried to give her a sobriety test?”

  Giulia choked with laughter. It felt good.

  Frank aimed a punch at Jimmy’s shoulder. “Are you through? I’ve got six separate cases waiting for me. Rent’s due next week.”

  “Right. I’m going to spend my morning on this report. Poole and Davis can take over the Senior Citizen Weeklong Car Crash Flash Mob.” He opened a blank document. “Giulia, let’s have what you know, and we’ll compare it with what I’ve got here.”

  Giulia opened her purse. “I don’t have all the details, but I know Laurel has pages of them. Can she email everything to you?”

  “Sure.” He spelled out his email address.

  Giulia opened her cell. “This’ll only take a second … Laurel? It’s me. Write down this email address.” She waited while Laurel repeated it. “Yes. Email everything you have on the other two kidnappings to Captain Reilly … I know it’s already ten thirty … I know it’s Tuesday … I’ll call you in a little while, sweetie.”

  Jimmy waited till Giulia returned the phone to her purse. “Giulia, briefly. I see that the ransom deadline is Thursday. Does your friend think there is an underlying deadline as well?”

  “Yes, based on the other two kidnappings. Neither infant was returned alive.” She clenched her hands together. “I wish you could know how hard it is for me to pretend I’m calm and detached about this.”

  Jimmy gave her a brief smile. “Your hand-wringing and non-verbal cues are telling me everything I need to know.”

  She didn’t return it. “Are they telling you how much I want to vent my anger on your homophobic detective out there?”

  He closed his eyes. “I swear that idiot expects me to screen crime victims so every case he’s assigned to gets him adulation or a raise. I don’t make enough money for this.”

  “If his omissions cause harm to the baby, I will show him the other side of polite, inoffensive Giulia Falcone.”

  Frank coughed. Giulia started. She’d almost forgotten he was in the room.

  Jimmy clicked his mouse. “I’d pay money to see that. The documents just hit my in-box. Frank, I’ll call you. Giulia, if you accidentally spill hot coffee in Poole’s lap, I promise not to see it.”

  “You shouldn’t tempt people to be naughty so close to Christmas. Santa may be listening.”

  This time they smiled at each other.

  “You sound like my kids,” Jimmy said. “You’ll hear from me this afternoon at the latest.”

  In the outer room, Poole was saying to the other policemen in a voice pitched to carry, “How many ex-cops does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

  SIX

  GIULIA DIDN’T SPEAK UNTIL Frank’s car was stuck in a long line at a red light.

  “That miserable, self-centered—”

  “Asshole.” He reached over and squeezed her gloved hand. “Any other words you want me to use so you don’t have to?”

  She bit her lips. “A few.”

  “Consider them said. The ironic thing is, you should thank Poole.”

  “What?”

  Frank laughed. “Your voice cracks when you’re angry.” Their turn at the light came, and he continued onto the freshly salted street. “Think about it: Jimmy was going to freeze us out of his office. I knew it even though he agreed to talk to us. This is police territory, period.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Jimmy’s people have the case. If he asks us to help, then we have an opening. You’ve seen enough movies where the police hate the PI. Constantly threaten to take away his license, won’t share information. That’s not my style. I’ve still got a great working relationship with Jimmy. I’m not jeopardizing that.”

  Giulia’s arguments withered on her lips.

  Frank glanced at her and nodded. “But then Poole-the-Asshole screwed up the report. Jimmy knows he’s lost a day on a time-

  sensitive case. The responsibility is his; he’s in charge. He knows we won’t make a public stink about it, but your friends might.”

  “What would you do it if were your baby?”

  “Exactly. So we’re his early Christmas present. We want to help, we’re skilled, we’re his friends. Bam. We’re now officially assisting the police investigation and my excellent working relationship remains intact.” He flipped off a minivan as it ran the light. “I hope you skid into a telephone pole, asshole.”

  “Frank.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I should be more charitable. Tell the idiots who forget how to drive in this weather to stay off the road, and maybe that’ll happen.”

  “At least you have a choice. Dealing with drivers who text and eat while steering with their knees is better than another winter taking the bus.”

  Frank parked behind their building but didn’t shut off the ignition. “That’s the voice of someone who’s been reading Auto Trader magazine. You’re finally joining the ranks of the self-mobile?”

  “I should be, but my allergy to debt is paralyzing me. My savings account has a few hundred dollars more than I need for the down payment on a certain used Saturn. Six years old, tan inside, copper outside.”

  “You have car lust.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”

  She rubbed her gloved hands together. “When did you last ride the bus in winter? The closed windows give free rein to the body odor.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Deodorant is cheap. Certain items should never be cut out of one’s budget.” She pinched her nostrils to clear out the phantom odor. “Since we’re still in the car, you must want to talk about something that can’t be discussed around Sidney.”

  “Who said anything about talk?” He leaned across the seats and kissed her.

  She responded like it hadn’t been two weeks since he’d said anything to her that wasn’t work-related. Then her brain rebooted. She pulled her lips away from his.

  “It’s cold out here.”

  “That’s why I left the heater on.” He reached for her again.

  I’m going to regret this. “We’re supposed to be working.”

  He grinned. “I’m the boss. I can change work rules if I want.”

  No, I’m not going to regret this. “This is why office romances are a bad idea. We’re not on equal footing.” She unbuckled her seat belt to alleviate the trapped sensation. “S
nogging belongs on dates, in private, not at eleven a.m. in a public parking lot.”

  She stifled a smile at his baffled expression. Did the man think his considerable charm offset everything else?

  “But … we’ve been busy. When else are we supposed to have some private time?”

  “People make time for what’s important.”

  He leaned away. “I see you finally learned how to play hard-to-get. Tell Cosmo they can bite me.”

  “I am not playing at anything. I’m tired of getting treated as your girlfriend when it’s convenient and your employee when it isn’t.” Her heart rate increased like she was at the end of a five-mile run. “Right now what’s important is getting Katie back.”

  Frank popped his seat belt. “Fine. Glad to see I can always count on you to earn your pay.”

  As they walked upstairs, Giulia imagined Frank taping a sign to her back: Ice Queen. For a moment she wanted to curse herself, until her Cosmo-studying kicked in. Instead, she patted herself on the back for not being a doormat to his erratic face-sucking moods. The convent had been hard. In a karmic-payback sense, dating should be easy. Thanks for nothing, Universe. She toed off her boots and opened the office door.

  “You piece of crap!” Sidney was pulling at the file-cabinet lock.

  “Sidney?” Giulia said.

  Sidney jumped. “Giulia. Mr. D. Um … I pushed in the lock and it won’t pull out and I can’t find the key.”

  Frank huffed. “There is no key. That’s why I got it so cheap at the used office supply place.” He scanned Sidney’s desk and picked up a large paper clip. “All right, ladies. Time for your first lesson in breaking and entering.”

  “What?” Giulia and Sidney said in unison.

  “Lock-picking. All good investigators know how to do this—unofficially, of course. First, open the paper clip so you have a bigger half-loop and a smaller half-loop. Break it in the middle.” He snapped the thin metal in two. “Now open each loop into an L.”