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

“As do you, my friend.”

“Thanks, Angie. That means a lot, coming from you.”

I had to defuse this before it got maudlin. “So how’d you spend the night? Don’t tell me where you are. I’ll ask Bart in person.”

“I thought your phone was secure.”

“I believe it is.”

“Hmm. Prepare for the worst. Well, after Adriana and I were…relocated to different hotels, Bart’s security guy came over and swept the room for bugs. His name is Spider. I bet he has an interesting background, with that name.” Bobbie paused. “Maybe I should get a nickname that’s more suitable for a PI. What do you think?”

“You’re asking a woman named Angelina Sofia Bonaparte?”

Bobbie laughed. “At least you have a woman’s name. I don’t know why my parents named me Bobbie with an I-E. It’s not even short for Robert. You’d think two people who were so horrified by my being gay would pick a masculine name for a baby boy.”

“Well, I see no problem with your name or your sexual orientation. But if you want to use a macho name for your life as a PI, fine with me. Just let me know what to call you when we’re in the office or on a case.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about that. To continue, while Spider checked out the room, Bram showed up. You know, the guy Bart said could teach me defensive moves and how to shoot. Bram and Spider are friends from…I don’t know what branch of the military they served in. But Bram checked out the hotel and grounds—he called it ‘securing the perimeter’—and then spent part of the night reading while I tried to sleep. That man is restless. I swear he got up to look out the windows and walk the hallway every half hour.”

“Sounds like a pro,” I said.

“He’s very intense. A bit scary, to be honest. And he uses a cane. I guess his knee isn’t healed yet, but I have no doubt he can handle himself. That cane would be a deadly weapon in his hands.”

“Is he still there?”

“No, the day shift is outside, getting ready to tail me. I’m allowed to go about my business during the day, according to Bart, as long as I have personal security.”

“Good. I have an assignment for you.”

“Already? That’s…that’s great! Will I be watching, you know, the place in…uh, south of us?”

“Nothing so exciting. I’ll meet you at the office at one and show you how to run a basic background check.”

“Okay.” He still sounded pumped. “See you then.”

Before I could place a call to Adriana, my cell phone rang. “Angie,” said a gravely male voice, “this Josif Zupan. Service for Dragana is on Saturday at ten. At St. Sava. You be there?”

“Of course, Josif. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Meal after, in the church hall. You come?”

“I’d be honored.” I wondered how to phrase my request. “Josif, I have an intern. His name is Bobbie Russell. With your permission, I’d like to bring him to the service and meal. He can be another set of eyes for me.”

“You think killer be there?”

“There’s no way to tell, but Bobbie is good at reading people. He might pick up on something I’ve missed.” I wasn’t sure if Josif was involved in the murders or the money, but if he wasn’t complicit, he needed to know. “I have something unsettling to tell you, Josif. I assigned Bobbie to watch your house on Monday evening, on the off chance that Petrovitch would show up.”

“You mean, on the off chance we are—what is word?—in cahoots.”

“Yes. In my line of work, I can’t take things for granted. That night, Bobbie thought he spotted Petrovitch go past your home, twice. The car didn’t stop, just drove through the cul-de-sac. If Petrovitch is involved, he’s a danger to you and Adriana. You need to take precautions. I can set you up with personal security, Josif. I wish you’d consider it.”

“He no hurt me.” His laugh was like a bark. “I hope he try.”

“There’s no proof he’s involved. It’s all circumstantial, for now.”

“I know him, from Yugoslavia and Bosnia. Bad man. Very bad. Like cowboys say, I shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Vigilante justice can land you in prison.” I took a breath. “Would you meet with me again, Josif, and tell me about Petrovitch? About the old days in Bosnia? I can’t shake the feeling that all this is connected to that time.”

“Ne. I no talk about those days. Nikada nije—never.”

“Please consider it. It could lead to his arrest, if he was involved.”

After a long silence, he spoke. “I no promise. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand. And is it okay for Bobbie to be there?”

“Da, is okay.”

“Do you need any help getting ready?”

“Ne. Father Matthieu, he handle everything.”

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday morning.”

I needed to get some food into me, despite last night’s pig-out, so I toasted half an English muffin and opened a small yogurt. Just as I prepared to eat, the kitchen phone gave three short rings, the signal for the building intercom in the lobby.

I lifted the handset and a man spoke. “Ms. Bonaparte, I’m Spider Mulcahey. Bart Matthews sent me.”

“I’ll be down in a minute, Mr. Mulcahey.”

When the elevator doors opened, I spotted a thirty-something man waiting near the front of the lobby. Points to him for not cornering me as soon as I exited. He moved toward me, hand extended. “Spider Mulcahey.”

“Angie Bonaparte,” I responded. His untamed black hair and busy eyebrows were amusing. I struggled to hide a smile. “Can I see some ID?”

“Smart,” he told me. “Lots of folks assume you’re legit because you mention the name of someone they know.” He produced a Wisconsin driver’s license and a business card that read, “Secure Windows and Doors.” “I’ve got a picture of my wife and son in here, too.”

I laughed as we moved toward the elevator. “This’ll do. Come on up. I was just having breakfast. Care to join me?”

“I ate at home with Joey while Magdalena got some