Frankie's Back in Town (8 page)

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply but motioned him toward her office. The best offense and all that. “Come in.”

“You don’t look so happy,” she said without preamble once they were behind her closed office door.

“I’m not.”

“Is it time to worry about my staff?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “It’s time to take a look, but with any luck I can spare you the worrying.”

Nice of him to offer but Francesca was going to worry, thank you—for a number of reasons. “What can you tell me?”

Chin up. Shoulders back. Ever forward.

She could handle this.

When Jack slid an envelope across the desk, all thoughts evaporated. Francesca recognized the official-looking document before she even reached for it. “Oh, no.”

“I need the personnel records of everyone with physical access to the Hickmans’ apartment.” He held the paper firmly in place when she would have pulled it away, forcing her to lift her gaze to meet his. “Don’t worry, Francesca. Your employees aren’t the only ones with access to the Hickmans’ credit cards.”

Staring into this man’s face made thinking nearly impossible. “I’m so sorry for the Hickmans. I was really hoping for a speedy resolution.”

Jack lifted his hand and let her take the document. “You keep right on hoping. I intend to make that happen.”

“I appreciate that.” She sought refuge from his gaze inside the subpoena, which appeared to be in order. Would she have expected any less from this man? “So, you want personnel records for everyone with physical access to the Hickmans’ apartment. Since the captain’s wallet went missing the first time?”

He nodded. “I assume you keep service logs.”

“Yes.”

“If they’re on the property, I want to take them with me. If not, we’ll need to make some arrangements.”

“They’re here.” Francesca did not like the sound of this. Jack was well aware that his request would mean dropping everything to comply. She also knew he wouldn’t have asked without good reason.

No, she didn’t like the sound of this at all.

She pushed away from the desk. “With Yvette’s help, we can probably pull everything together fairly quickly.”

And she could send him on his way. Right out the door.

Goodbye, Mr. Too Handsome. See you after I’ve got my head screwed on straight again.

Then Jack gazed up at her, and from this vantage she could see his handsome face from an entirely new perspective. The striking cut of his jaw. The closely cropped hair that made the hard lines of his face almost severe. “Thank you, Francesca.”

“Of course, Jack.” And she almost sounded normal.

Hightailing it toward the door with Jack in her wake, she stepped out of her office to find…“Nonna?”

“Hello, dolly.” Nonna tilted her cheek for a kiss, and Francesca automatically obliged.

“Is everything all right?”

But Nonna was staring at Jack, eyeing him from head to toe with interest.

“You’re the police chief.” Not a question. She extended her hand, and he brought it to his lips in a move designed to melt hearts. “You’re even more handsome than on the news.”

“Thank you. You’re Francesca’s grandmother.”

Nonna beamed approval. “You can call me Etta. All my friends do.”

“A pleasure then, Etta.” Jack’s smile had her eating out of the palm of his hand.

For a woman who’d claimed to be slowing down, Nonna had made it down to this office with impressive speed.

“Nonna, I just left you. Is everything okay?”

“No worries, dolly. I wanted to meet
Jack.
”

Francesca wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Turned out she didn’t get a chance anyway because Nonna gave Jack a high-beam smile and told them, “I’ll be on my way then. You kids get back to what you were doing.”

“Hope to see you again, Etta,” Jack said.

“Me, too, Jack. Me, too.” Then, with a toss of her white curls, Nonna headed out of the reception area.

No worries? Francesca wished.

“W
E’VE GOT NADA
, J
ACK
,”
Randy complained, shoving a hand through his hair.

Jack spun away from his makeshift desk in Randy’s cubicle and met the detective’s tired gaze. “Wrong. What we have has just brought us back around to where we started.”

Randy snorted in disgust. “It’s no wonder they made you chief. Damn diplomat. You’re like a little ray of sunshine.
Nada,
Jack.
Nada.
” He scowled. “The Hickmans’ family checked out. Both employees who found the wallet checked out. Emelina checked out. The other cleaning lady checked out. The maintenance man. The pest control guy and five different food service people. Say what you want. We’ve spent two days chasing our tails.”

“We’ve eliminated all the obvious suspects.”

“And wound up with
nada.
” Randy didn’t bother trying to hide his frustration.

“You didn’t think this would be easy, did you?” If this case were going to be easy, Jack wouldn’t be working it. This meant he wouldn’t have met the beautiful director of Greywacke Lodge. Funny how things worked out sometimes. Wasn’t that what Frankie had said? “Look at these lists of purchases. I don’t see service people jetting around the country buying high-ticket items then racing back to Bluestone to clock in.”

“My money was on the family.”

That got Jack thinking. “You know, Francesca mentioned Captain Hickman had been in the hospital recently. He also did a stint at the nursing center for rehab. We need to check out who had his wallet during those stays.”

“Way ahead of you, chief.” Randy’s suddenly upbeat tone made Jack brace himself. “You’re spending too much time parading around in those dress blues. Thought of that already. Had an answer within an hour.”

“And,” Jack prompted.

“Hickman’s daughter took all her father’s personal items when she met her parents in the emergency room. She brought everything home and locked it in her own fire-safety box. Only she and her husband have keys, and both of them checked out.”

“Interesting that she didn’t give those things to her mother.”

“Her mother’s loopier than her father.” Randy looked pleased with himself. “The daughter’s words, not mine.”

Jack sank back into his chair and rubbed his temples, where a dull headache lurked. He definitely should have caught that sooner. But Randy was wrong about why Jack was so distracted.

The only reason he’d even remembered the captain’s hospital stay and subsequent rehab was because Frankie had mentioned it and he’d been busy thinking about Frankie.

The way she’d looked the day she’d arrived to run interference for her residents with the police, all friendly professionalism and no-nonsense business.

The way her cheeks had flushed in embarrassed pleasure when she’d run into him at Wal-Mart.

The way her gray eyes had flashed when she’d thought he’d been accusing her residents of…what had she said that day?

Bonnie and Clyde.

He almost smiled. He might have appreciated the humor more had his preoccupation with Frankie not had him missing the obvious. Jack was many things—single-minded and career focused among them—but he was not sloppy. Right now he needed to be on the top of his game because this investigation needed to be yesterday’s news. He wanted to explore why one lovely woman was preoccupying him in a way he’d never been preoccupied before.

The first measures of the national anthem blared over the background noise of the station and into his thoughts. Jack glanced in the direction of the sound as Randy snatched his cell phone off his desk.

“My son,” he said in explanation as he snapped the phone opened and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Jack glanced back at the stacks of information covering the table that served as his workstation. Scanning the hard copies of collected data, he pulled the Greywacke Lodge resident list from the stack and tuned out the sound of Randy’s conversation.

The time had come to refocus the investigation, and the place to start was with this list. Using his laptop, he pulled up Credit Alert, a national law-enforcement database with a feature that would grant him access to a view of a person’s credit status, a handy tool for law-enforcement agencies, even if it didn’t provide detailed information.

A superficial view was all Jack needed right now, just enough information to know whether or not he needed to worry about the one commonality of the names on the list.

Greywacke Lodge.

With any luck, clearing names off the residents’ list would guide the investigation in the proper direction. Preferably
away
from the lodge and its staff.

Methodically, Jack keyed the names into the search function, starting on page one of the alphabetical list.

Lawrence Abbott of D-712.

No match found.

Ellen Acton of A-401.

No match found.

Rebekah Anderson of I-114

No match found.

Joseph Angelica of B-603.

No match found.

By the time Jack had gotten through the
C
s with no matches, he began to breathe easier. Then he hit the
D
s. The first two were okay then…

Richard Drew of F-327.

Delinquent.

One hit did not an identity theft make, but it did have Jack sitting up straighter in the chair, keying names in faster, exhaling a breath each and every time the words flashed on his screen:
No match found.

Evangeline Humble of G-611

Delinquent.

Robert Garfield of F-707.

Delinquent.

Nicholas Montague of C-505.

Delinquent.

Sylvia Owen of I-532.

Delinquent.

Neil Patrick of A-204.

Delinquent.

Eleven in all and Judge Pierce among them. With a sick feeling, Jack pulled up the Clearinghouse Alert, a database that coordinated nationwide law-enforcement efforts about active investigations, and he was still staring dully at the monitor when Randy ended his call.

“Damn kid is being deployed to Afghanistan next week.” Randy ran his hand through his hair, clearly rattled. “He’s
thrilled, Jack. Can you believe it? I didn’t even know what to say. I suppose it was just a matter of time, but hell…His mother is going to melt down.”

Jack dragged his attention from the computer, forced himself to face Randy and focus. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. My kid’s heading off to war. Who the hell knows if he’ll make it back in one piece?” Randy exhaled sharply. “I’m not okay, but I am proud. He’s twenty-one and planning to save the world. Do you even remember what it felt like to be on fire?”

Jack glanced back at the computer display. Not so long ago, cracking a case wide would have had him on fire.

Randy must have taken the continued silence as his answer because he gave a short laugh. “Hell. Me, either. Too damn long ago. What I want to know is how I’m supposed to sleep at night knowing he’s over there dodging artillery?”

Jack stared at Randy, not exactly surprised that behind the competence and sarcasm was a father who loved his son. Randy didn’t often share that glimpse of himself. He either felt comfortable around Jack in a way he didn’t with most of his coworkers, or he was really rattled. Jack guessed the latter.

“If it’s any help,” he said, “I can give you something to take your mind off your troubles.”

“What’s that?”

He tossed down a sheath of papers in front of Randy. “How about eleven hits on the resident list?”

Randy’s eyes widened. “No shit? We can wipe all the service people off the suspect list. That’ll narrow things down a lot.”

And point them in the direction of the people with access to the residents’ personal information.

Greywacke Lodge administration.

“I
CAN’T BELIEVE HOW TALENTED
that daughter of yours is,” Yvette said casually while striding through the office to place yet another folder on the precarious stack of paperwork that had taken root on the side of the desk.

Francesca glanced up from Susanna’s proposal to change service providers and said automatically, “Thanks.” Then she met Yvette’s smiling gaze and dragged her thoughts out of the paperwork. “That was random.”

Yvette laughed. “Not really. I just ran into her.”

“Really? Where?”

“In the restaurant.”

Obviously Yvette assumed that the elder generation Raffa had a bead on what was happening with the younger generation. Not so. Francesca glanced at the clock. Gabrielle should have been on the school bus headed home right now.

Yvette quickly figured out her announcement was coming as a surprise and, coward that she was, hightailed it out of the office with a hastily muttered, “Look at the time.”

Francesca stared at the closing door with a frown. With a regretful gaze at the tottering stack of work, she deemed discovering what was going on with her daughter more important than making a dent in that never-ending pile.

Francesca left the office to find that Yvette wasn’t even at her desk. Probably hiding in the copy room.

Clearly something was up with Gabrielle, that much was a given. Ashokan High was within biking distance of the lodge, but since Gabrielle hadn’t brought her bike from Phoenix, she must have walked from school. Had she missed the bus?

That was a no-brainer.

If she’d missed the bus, she would need a ride home, which would have left her two choices—either calling Francesca for that ride or dealing with the situation on her own.

Getting a ride from school wasn’t an issue as Gabrielle well knew. The fact that she’d already needed two rides this week…well, apparently she didn’t want to deal with the questions that her actions would invite.

Something was up. Another mystery.

Strolling past the restaurant windows, Francesca glanced inside. The lodge hosted a monthly tea. The activities director occasionally hired professional entertainment, but more often than not, she encouraged residents to showcase their talents.

As a result the monthly tea was a well-attended event, so well attended that they’d established an arts and entertainment council whose sole function was seeking out the talent hiding in the lodge and keeping it from getting dusty.

Today, showcased on the small stage, was none other than…
her daughter.

Gabrielle wasn’t performing alone. Rather, she was seated beside Eddie Shaw, guitar player extraordinaire, who accompanied her on what Francesca believed to be a mandolin.

The audience sat in small clusters around tables decorated with fresh flowers and red and white tulle. They sipped coffee and tea, nibbled cookies and scones and enjoyed the music, an intricate piece that must have taken a good bit of rehearsing.

Likely the reason Gabrielle had been missing the bus.

Making her way to the restaurant’s main entrance, Francesca hovered in the doorway to hear the performance better.

Gabrielle was very talented. She’d been playing the violin since second grade and had routinely earned superior status at solo and ensemble competitions. And every year she’d been invited to perform in All-County and All-State ensembles.

But guitar was her passion. She had her head filled with bands and concerts, not unlike her mother at that age, and to Francesca’s sorrow, Gabrielle hadn’t joined orchestra in high school because she’d wanted to use any free time left after schoolwork and social life to practice.

Of course, guitar had taken precedence to everything.

Francesca didn’t enter the restaurant until the performance ended to appreciative applause and the guests began to chitchat among their groups. She spotted Nonna seated with Auntie Pippa and zigzagged through the tables to a chorus of polite greetings that announced her presence.

Gabrielle was primed and ready by the time Francesca reached the table. “Hello, Mother.”

“Hello, dear. Miss the bus?”

Once upon a time, Gabrielle would have had the grace to look abashed when caught in the act. Now she gave an amused laugh. “Not exactly. Been practicing with Mr. Shaw.”

She slanted her gaze toward the man who was now making his way to them, greeting his crowd of appreciative admirers. With bright blue eyes, a shock of thick white hair and a quick grin, Eddie Shaw looked the part of celebrity heartthrob. He was a charmer in every sense of the word given how often Francesca encountered him chatting with women in the hallways. Married and widowed alike.

As far as Francesca was concerned there were two types of charmers—charming gentlemen and charming rogues. Eddie Shaw was the latter. Just like her ex-husband had been. Completely engaging as long as no one expected anything more than wining and dining and romance. She didn’t have any trouble imagining her ex-husband at Eddie’s age, still the life of the party.

Jack, too.

Only Jack’s future wasn’t any of her business. If he wanted to spend his retirement charming the ladies, that was his prerogative. She wished him well.

Stubbornly fixing her attention on the room, Francesca pushed all thoughts of Jack from her head. Seemed like every thought circled to him.

“Isn’t it awesome?” Gabrielle tilted the neck of the guitar from the case.

There was no missing that this guitar was in an entirely different league from the five-hundred dollar model Francesca had bought her daughter several years ago.

“It’s lovely,” she agreed.

“Custom-made for me by Señor Mendoza in Seville,” Mr. Shaw said as if Francesca would understand what that meant.

Gabrielle obviously did because she gave an ecstatic sigh as Mr. Shaw launched into praise for Gabrielle’s talent.

“Eddie has offered to give Gabrielle lessons since she hasn’t found a new instructor yet,” Nonna said. “Here, dolly. Sit down. You should try these pecan sandies. You look thin.”

Not according to the scale. But she accepted the cookie anyway to avoid a debate. “That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Shaw. Gabrielle and I can discuss it when we get home.”

“Just let me know. Ladies.” Mr. Shaw tipped his hat,
those blue eyes twinkling. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I see Fanny flagging me down. Great job, Gabrielle. We’ll work on some Count Basie next.” With that he lifted her hand to his mouth in a gallant gesture before sauntering off with a jaunty, if somewhat slow-motion stride.

“Such a nice man,” Nonna said.

“He’s an old hound dog,” Minnie Moorehead commented from a nearby table, obviously having overheard every word of the conversation. “I wouldn’t leave my daughter alone with him.”

Gabrielle slanted her chair so her back faced Minnie and stuck her finger in her mouth, as if the very idea of
that
sort of impropriety was enough to make her gag.

Francesca scowled. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You heed me well, girl. I don’t want to tell you how he propositioned me in the elevator.”

“Minnie,” Nonna said, horrified. “He didn’t?”

Gabrielle started up feigned twitching, and Francesca scowled harder.

“He did. Hound dog. Mind my words, all of you.” Minnie shook her head, oblivious to Gabrielle’s facial theatrics. “Now what about you, Francesca? How’s it going with your new man?”

“I don’t have time enough to clear my desk, let alone find time for a man,” Francesca said.

“No wonder your grandmother is so worried about you.”

Francesca turned her scowl on Nonna, who informed her, “He’s a bachelor, dolly. I asked.”

“Asked whom?”

“Why Dottie, of course,” Mr. Butterfield announced from the table to the other side of them, proving that everyone within earshot was listening to this conversation. “She’s the authority around here. Knows everything about everyone.”

Dottie leaned around her husband and peered myopically from thick, large-rimmed glasses. “I’m well connected.”

“I see,” Francesca said, wishing she didn’t.

“Into everyone’s business, more’s the like,” Mr. Butterfield said under his breath. Unfortunately, as his hearing wasn’t quite what it could have been, his whisper managed to carry a good ten feet in every direction.

“
Well connected,
” Dottie Butterfield repeated. “I’ve known Jack’s family since long before his daddy was in knickers. In fact, Jack’s granddaddy was sweet on me in our time.” She fixed a glacial expression on her husband. “The life I might have had if I’d have stuck with him. Youth is wasted on the young.”

Mr. Butterfield just grunted, clearly unwilling to tempt fate with a reply.

Dottie had the floor and ran with it. “Jack’s a good boy from a good family. He’s doing a lovely job running the police department, and from what I hear, the whole town’s happy with him in charge. He’s a man of his word like his daddy and granddaddy. The kind of boy you can bank on.”

Nonna nodded approvingly. “And he’s a bachelor.”

“Sure is,” Dottie said. “Never once been married.”

“Not one of those homosexuals, is he?” Minnie asked in a voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few more tables. “Nice-looking boy like that. Pity.”

“He is not homosexual, Minnie,” Dottie stated emphatically. “He hasn’t found the right girl to settle with yet. That’s what his mama told me, anyway.”

Nonna caught Francesca’s gaze and winked. “A handsome bachelor.”

“Who’s not homosexual.” Minnie nodded approvingly.

Gabrielle leaned forward and patted Francesca’s hand. “Nonna’s right, Mom. He sounds perfect. Not gay. No child
support. He’ll be able to afford me. Unless you want me to go back to Phoenix and live with Dad.”

“Gabrielle Concetta Cecilia.” Francesca glowered.

“There’s more to life than work, dolly,” Nonna said. “There should be more to
your
life.”

“Exactly when would I have time for more
life
when my hands are full with you two?” The comedy team of grandmother who thought she knew everything and teenager who was sure she did.

“Read my lips, people.
Not interested.
” Francesca smiled so hard it hurt, reminding herself that they were worried about
her.
Since she was the one who usually did the worrying, she should be grateful. “So thank you all very much for your generous advice.”
Very
generous.
Abundantly
generous. “Now I see folks are starting to leave. Nonna, why don’t Gabrielle and I walk you back to your apartment?”

Gabrielle popped out of her seat as if she’d been ejected. “I’ve got to take the guitar back to Mr. Shaw’s apartment.”

“Fine, then straight back to Nonna’s.”

She muttered an agreement and packed Señor Mendoza’s custom-made guitar back in its case while Nonna plucked a variety of cookies from a platter and wrapped them in a napkin.

“For coffee later.”

Of course, she squirreled away enough cookies to serve half the fourth floor, but Francesca merely offered to carry them and steered Nonna in the direction of the door.

“You asked me not to start up speculation about the captain’s wallet, dolly. And I didn’t. I diverted people.”

As far as plans went, this wasn’t the best Francesca had ever heard. But she was impressed with Nonna’s clarity of thought to point that out.

“I did mention Jack’s a bachelor, didn’t I?”

“You most definitely did.”

So much for clarity of thought. Nonna’s or her own. She was absolutely, positively not going to start thinking about Jack
the bachelor.
“I’ll take it under advisement. That’s the best I can do. I’m glad you care.”

“Of course I care, dolly. I love you.”

Francesca didn’t say another word as the elevator whisked them up to the fourth floor and they walked the short distance down the hallway to Nonna’s door, where she pressed the lumpy pile of cookies into her grandmother’s hands.

“Gabrielle should be along any minute,” she said. “I’m heading back to work so I won’t run late tonight. I’ll collect my daughter when it’s time to go.”

Nonna kissed her goodbye, and Francesca headed to the stairs, needing a few quiet minutes to collect herself.

She didn’t question how much Nonna cared, but she had to figure out some way to reassure her grandmother that she was happiest as a single woman. If and when the time ever came for romance again, maybe after Gabrielle had gone off to college, Francesca would consider what sort of man she wanted.

But she would definitely steer clear of men like Jack, who could melt chocolate with a glance. Francesca wanted a man who wanted to be in a partnership, a man who understood that it took two people to weather life’s ups and downs. She wanted someone who would have her back when she was feeling pounded on and someone she could care for without worrying that he’d take advantage.

She didn’t buy Dottie Butterfield’s explanation for Jack’s bachelorhood. Not for a second. Charming, gorgeous man like him would have a world of possibilities to choose from. But Jack probably didn’t have any interest in family life. Wouldn’t be uncommon for such a charming man.

And if that was the case, then Francesca gave him credit
for living his life on his terms. There was no rule that said people had to get married and have kids. Family life was a gift she’d learned to appreciate after having a daughter of her own. Some men—and women for that matter—weren’t interested in making those sorts of commitments to other people. Nothing wrong with that.

There was something wrong with people who tried to milk the best from both worlds. A family meant seeing to another’s needs before one’s own sometimes. Heck, a lot of the time. Men who weren’t willing to do their share in the family only made life heartbreaking for everyone around them.

She knew that firsthand.