Frankie's Back in Town. Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
she hadn’t seen a notebook computer in bright pink in any of the apartments she cleaned.
Maybe, she would notice a new flat screen TV since it was her job to dust it. Maybe not. TVs all looked the same since she never had time to watch them.
Yes, there was an apartment she cleaned that had an expensive-looking electronic keyboard.
Francesca knew for a fact that Mrs. Hickman had brought a keyboard as a compact replacement for the baby grand piano she’d played most of her adult life. But that keyboard had moved in with them. Long before the captain had misplaced his wallet.
This time.
Jack thanked Emelina and looked to Francesca for an escort to the next place on his list.
“The residents’ parking garage,” he said. “Would you like to grab a coat?”
“Only if you’re planning to keep me outside a while.”
“Just a walk-around.”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
Better to get this tour over with as quickly as possible rather than delay with a trip back to her office. Besides, some cold air might help clear her head. Of course, the instant Francesca got a blast of a Mid-Hudson Valley winter, she was thinking twice about her clever idea to force Jack to hurry.
She watched him scan the rows of cars on both sides of the garage and had to ask, “Did these suspicious purchases on the captain’s credit begin the first time he misplaced his wallet?”
“I’m sorry. Can’t answer that yet.”
Okay. She understood he couldn’t discuss the details of his investigation, but she didn’t like being in the dark. She tried a side-door approach. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help you look.”
“A 2009 Ducati Desmosedici RR.”
Francesca stopped short. “Ducati? As in motorcycle?”
“A limited edition. Red. We’ll check with gatehouse security, but I wanted to walk through in case it was brought onto the property and not registered.”
“Jack?”
He glanced around, obviously just realizing she hadn’t kept up with him. “Francesca?”
“You’re looking for a Ducati, here? But these cars belong to residents who can still drive. There aren’t many. Trust me. Even if the captain bought a Ducati, why would he park it here?”
A frown furrowed his brow. “I have no way of knowing.”
The wind picked up, whipping her hair into her face, blowing through her hose and freezing away any reaction she once might have had to this man’s charm. Now he was just obtuse. “You met the Hickmans, Jack. These lists of yours make it sound as if you think they went on some Bonnie-and-Clyde style shopping rampage. I understand you can’t discuss the details of your investigation, I honestly do, but can’t you be a little clearer on exactly what you’re looking for?”
That black, black gaze bored into hers for a long time before he said, “Evidence linking the suspect charges to the person who made the purchases. I need to confirm whether or not Captain Hickman made these purchases before I can know if I need to keep looking at whoever has access to his credit cards.”
“Like my staff.”
“Like your staff,” he agreed.
“So we’re not talking about a little crime your department will solve quickly? We’re talking about a big messy crime that keeps my residents worrying and every red flag I have flying.”
A crime that would keep the too-charming chief of police dropping by her office whenever he had a question.
“I’m afraid we are,” he said.
“Damn.” Francesca exhaled a frigid breath. “And it’s only Thursday.”
“Tasty Thursday.” He reminded her.
She didn’t need a reminder, thank you.
CHAPTER FIVE
“HANG ON,” SUSANNA WHISPERED into her cell. “I can’t talk here.”
Hurrying from the lobby, she bypassed her office to step inside an exit stairwell. Easing the door closed, she shut out the familiar sounds of the administrative wing. The drone of the copier where Yvette was printing the latest edition of the residents’ activity calendar. The electronic hissing and beeping of the fax machine. The intermittent ringing of the switchboard. Once the door clicked shut, the silence enveloped her in a calm that she welcomed with a deep sigh.
“That’s better,” she breathed into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Dish,” Karan’s voice shot back over the receiver. “Becca told me that Chuck is off the case at your place, and Jack is on. Have you heard?”
Not even a “Hello, how’s your day?” Classic Karan. But Susanna didn’t mind. Despite Karan’s obvious quirks, she’d always been there when it counted. Like during Skip’s long battle with the non-Hodgkins lymphoma that had finally taken his life. Karan had put to work her connections with the medical community and those connections had been considerable—compliments of two ex-husbands.
“No, I hadn’t heard,” Susanna said. “But Jack has been by a few times. I assumed he was helping out.”
“A few times? And you haven’t called?”
Susanna propped the phone against her ear, reached for the handrail and began to climb in her version of a power walk. Well, power wasn’t exactly accurate, since she was wearing a business suit and practical pumps. But she might as well settle in for the long haul because Karan wasn’t going to hang up the phone until she’d been dished all the details.
If it hadn’t been twenty-six degrees outside, Susanna would have preferred to be on the par course. She’d settle for hoofing it up and down the stairs. Good exercise for her butt which, according to her daughter, was showing the effects of too much time behind a desk.
Thank you, Brooke.
“No, I didn’t call. It’s been crazy around here.”
“Susanna, we’re talking about Jack.” Karan’s tone scolded for breaking an all-important, if unspoken, rule.
Karan was always interested in Jack, regardless of who she was married to. “I was getting there. Between this place and all the nonsense going on with the police investigation, not to mention Brandon made the play-offs—”
“Stop right there, Suze. I do not want to hear your litany of excuses. Just tell me what’s going on with Jack.”
Susanna took the next few steps. “I really don’t know anything.”
“But you said he’s been by a few times.”
“He has. I saw him this morning. He asked me to give you his regards.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She didn’t admit that she’d had to wheedle the courtesy out of him. Jack never so much as mentioned Karan’s name. Not in all the years he’d been dropping by the house to watch football with Skip. He’d moved on with his life, unlike someone else who would remain nameless.
“How does he look? I haven’t seen him since we ran into each other at Gary’s last five-hundred-a-head dinner.”
Not exactly a surprise. Karan might officially live in Bluestone, but she’d been spending more time in the city, avoiding the gritty reality of her latest marriage meltdown. “No obvious gunshot wounds.”
“Susanna!” came the exasperated reply.
Susanna snickered away from the phone’s mouthpiece then said, “I really don’t know anything else. Jack’s