Blood Kills by Nanci Rathbun (book club reads .TXT) 📗

“Can’t.” He sighed. “My plate’s so full at work that I might as well get a researcher in China to clone me. Only way I’ll ever clear my caseload.”

“We could, uh, take a short ride to the lakefront and find a quiet spot.”

“They’re all under camera surveillance these days, moja droga. So’s the restaurant parking lot.” He took my hand, and we resumed the stroll to the car. “Sorry I started something I can’t finish, Angie. Really sorry.”

“I bet you are,” I said with a genteel snort. “Wrap this case up fast, okay?”

“Speed of light,” he assured me as we approached the roadster.

I stood on tiptoes and pulled his face down for a chaste kiss. “Be careful, caro.”

“Will do. And you.”

“And me,” I promised.

As I drove home to my condo and my lonely bedroom, I sighed. Maybe the embargo on our being together had been lifted, but Wukowski’s insistence on professional distance was just as bad. My body ached. How long would it take to find Mick Swanson’s killer?

Chapter 12

We are like a judge confronted by a defendant who declines to answer, and we must determine the truth from the circumstantial evidence.

Alfred Wegener

It was a portent of problems when Spider Mulcahey called on my home phone the next morning. He was incredibly tuned into security—small wonder, given that he owned a security company and also did occasional sub-rosa work for the government—so a call on my landline rather than on a cell phone or via a text raised my level of concern.

“Spider,” I said, “good to hear from you. How are Magdalena, Joey, and the twins? Their one-year birthday party still makes me smile when I remember it.” Gabriella and Daniel had exchanged looks and performed simultaneous face-plants into their smash cakes as if coordinating a rocket launch.

“We’re all good, Angie, if a bit tired. No one told Magda and me that three would be eight times the work of one.”

“I can only imagine,” I said.

His voice deepened. “The images you sent yesterday,” he began. “I have pretty significant findings. Need to meet in person with you, Bram, and Bobbie. Can you set that up for later today?”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Intentionally.”

His clipped speech pattern indicated tension. I checked the online office calendar. “I’m not sure about Bram, but Bobbie and I are free after one o’clock.”

“No worries. Bram and I will be at your office at one thirty. Meanwhile, watch your back.” Click.

***

I was surprised to see Bobbie in the office when I arrived. “I thought you’d be at the plant this morning.” I gave him a quick once-over. “Very casual GQ look,” I told him, appreciating his taper-cut dark jeans and mustard-yellow camp shirt.

“You’re looking good too. Love that shade of blue on you. Doesn’t often work with a Mediterranean complexion.”

“There’s some Scandinavian in my mom’s family,” I said. “I apparently got Papa’s dark hair and eyes and undertones of Mom’s peaches-and-cream skin.” I barely remembered my mother, who died from complications of the flu when I was little. Papa didn’t talk about her much. He still held a lot of grief over losing her, but Sicilian men don’t expose their vulnerable sides.

“You’re in pretty early,” I added. “And despite how well you’re turned out, you look tired.” I decided to postpone a discussion about Spider’s findings. “What’s up?”

His eyes sparkled as he said, “I wrapped up the plant theft last night and wanted to get my notes in order before I write the final report.”

Bobbie’s case involved theft from a local small brewery, one that was larger than a micro and shipped its product via internet orders. “Good work,” I said. “Tell me about it.”

“You remember how the owner was getting a steady stream of complaints that the shipments were light by a bottle or two? And he couldn’t pin it down to a packing defect?”

I nodded.

“The losses added up, especially since they’d send a free case to keep the customer happy. At first I figured the workers were helping themselves to a brewski on the job, but the security cameras in the building eliminated that. So last night, I paid a security guard in a building that faces the brewery parking lot to let me use an upstairs room for surveillance. Second shift ended and the crew piled into their cars and left. Except for one guy, who paced around with a cell phone to his ear. I think, good that he’s not driving and talking, right?”

“True,” I said.

“He wasn’t concerned with road safety, Ange. About five minutes after the lot cleared, he shoved the phone into his pants and popped the trunk of his SUV. I had a video camera aimed at the lot, just in case, so I caught him removing a quilted jacket. He goes from verging on obese to skinny as hell. And he proceeds to take beer bottles out of pockets sewn into the inside of the jacket. Six altogether. Enough to account for the small but steady inventory losses. Either he’s selling it or he’s supplying his friends, or he’s stocking up at home for a dry spell.”

“It’s going to be a heck of a dry spell, considering the company is out more than the twenty-five hundred that constitutes a felony in Wisconsin. He better drink up quickly.” I gave Bobbie a high five. “Smart of you to set up the overwatch that way. Very nice work.”

He beamed. “I thought so too. And it’ll augment our revenue stream.”

“It will indeed.” Bobbie’s business acumen, once sadly lacking, had definitely jumped to a higher level when he’d become an associate, with profit-sharing.

We clinked cups, me with my usual a.m. Starbucks and Bobbie with a mug of tea. “No java?” I asked.

“I want to get some sleep this afternoon. Steve and I have tickets for Abba at the Pabst.”

“That should be a great night, and I’m happy to let you off the hook this afternoon. Spider and Bram are arriving at one thirty. Spider went all stealth on me