Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set by Nanci Rathbun (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕

to go downstairs for the food. I never buzz people into the building unless I know them personally. There’s more safety in meeting a stranger in the lobby, and fewer opportunities for someone to drop off the order and then wander around, looking for a chance to do harm.

When I came back with the bag in hand, Adriana had plates and flatware out on the dining table. “I hope you don’t mind that I was in your cupboards,” she told me.

“Not at all. Thanks for taking care of it.” I asked Adriana to open the little white cartons while I made tea. I took a couple of linen napkins from a drawer and placed them on the table. “Tea will be ready in a few minutes. Dig in,” I told Adriana. “Let’s not stand on ceremony.”

The egg rolls were scrumptious, with a hint of peanut sauce in the fry batter. I dipped mine in a combo of sweet and sour mixed with hot mustard sauce, but Adriana smothered hers in the sweet and sour. We each enjoyed some beef and broccoli and chicken fried rice. Adriana found the kung pao chicken too spicy, so I ate the majority of it. Our small cups of tea were replenished several times from my majolica teapot.

Of course, the meal had to end with fortune cookies. I motioned to Adriana to choose first. She tore open the wrapper, split the crunchy shell and extracted the slip of paper. Laughing, she read aloud: If you don’t have time to live your life now, when will you? She handed it to me. “That is so true, Angie.” Her face sobered. “I hate to admit this, but since my parents died, I feel a real sense of freedom, of possibilities. It’s not that I didn’t love them, or that I don’t miss them. But I feel like I never really knew them.” She sat back, quiet.

How could they hold back their own daughter like they had? I reached across the table and placed the fortune in her hand, squeezing it gently. “Adriana, I understand your conflicted feelings about your parents. Even at my age, I have those conflicts, too. There’s a part of my papa’s life that isn’t hidden, like your parents’, but which he’s never let me into, probably for my own good. Even so, I feel a little alienated from him at times.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I sensed that she needed more from me, but didn’t want to ask. “Like your folks, Papa was an immigrant—from Sicily. Some men on the east coast got him work in Chicago. He ended up in the fruit and vegetable business here in Milwaukee. It was a legit business, but with ties to the Mafia. He only talked about it once with me. Nowadays, he’s retired from both.”

Her chin wobbled a bit, but she didn’t cry. “Thanks for telling me that, Angie. It helps.” She set the fortune on the table. “Your turn.”

Mine was a doozy: You are going to get new clothes. “Oh, wow, this is a great fortune for a clothes freak like me,” I read out loud. She was dressed in yet another fade-into-the-background outfit. “How about we do some shopping?”

“That would be so great!” she said. “I really want to look put together, like you do.”

“Well, I appreciate the compliment. But you need to dress a little younger than I do. Maybe some clothes for campus, if you’re going to enroll in nursing school.” Her eyes widened. “And something nice for a dinner date or church. And some bumming around clothes. And lingerie.” I inwardly shuddered, remembering her granny panties.

While I packaged leftovers and put them into the fridge, Adriana rinsed the dishes. Then my phone rang. I barely said hello when I heard Bobbie’s breathless voice. “Angie, I found him!”

“Petrovitch?”

“Yeah. He drove by the Zupan house twice—kinda circled at the dead end. He didn’t go in.”

“Did you get the make and model of his car?”

“I did better than that, Angie. I got the license plate, too.”

I could almost sense him wriggling with excitement. “Excellent! Are you still on the street outside the residence?”

“Well…um…actually, no. I tried to follow Petrovitch.”

“Bobbie!” I was aghast and let my voice show it. “The man may be a murderer!” I glanced over at Adriana, who was listening intently. She didn’t seem scared, but mouthed, “Is he okay?” I nodded.

“I was careful, Ange. I stayed three cars behind him, like it says in all the mystery novels.” He paused. “Problem is, I lost him.”

“At a light?”

“Um…no. He may have spotted me. I mean, he took a lot of turns. Some even brought him back to an earlier position.”

“I see. Well, it’s possible that he’s very cautious and always drives like that. Anyway, come on over to my condo. We have leftover Chinese food and you can give me the details on the car.” I gave him the code for the parking garage entrance and my space. “Pull inside and double park behind the Miata, in case Petrovitch did spot you and decided to tail you.”

“I should have thought of that, Angie. I don’t want to lead him to your place.”

“He already knows I’m working for Adriana. He can find me if he tries hard enough. And it’s probably overkill on my part.” After we hung up, I filled Adriana in on the conversation and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I am. In a way, I’m glad to know that Uncle Herman is still alive. I can’t picture him as a murderer, Angie.”

“He’s obviously involved in some way, but let’s hope it’s not that.” I grabbed my keys and told her I’d be back in a moment with Bobbie.

Adriana was loading the dishwasher when we walked in from the underground garage.

Bobbie didn’t say a word. He took her by the hands and gently pulled her into the living room, where he circled her quietly, pausing, nodding, making little mm-hmm sounds, flipping her hair behind her ears and then forward again.

I felt like a teacher whose