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

How did he know to call her “Missus”? He oozed charm, but I was sure Bertha would cut him off at the knees.

To my shock, she gave a little simpering smile and responded, “It’s part of the job, Len. Can I bring you a coffee?”

Good grief! Who was this woman and where was the real Bertha Conti being held? I breezed by and went into Bart’s office. Spider followed after about a minute. “Len?” I asked him.

He doffed an imaginary hat and swept me a bow. “Leonard Aloysius Mulcahey, at your service.”

“I take it you know Bertha.”

Bart smiled. “He’s been charming her for about a year now, since he first set up new office security for us.”

Bertha entered with a tray holding a carafe, three mugs, and sugar and creamer. All she’d ever done for me was allow me to pour my own. I was pretty sure that Bart never got this treatment, either. The old Bing Crosby song started to play in my head. When Irish eyes are smiling, sure, they steal your heart away.

We doctored our coffees and sat down. Bart checked his watch. “I’m expecting Bram and Malone any time now.”

“Are they bringing Bobbie and Adriana?” I asked.

Bart nodded.

If the suspicions that her parents were war criminals were confirmed, Adriana would have to face the ugly truth. For now, I wanted to protect her. Before I could explain Colonel Lewis’ theory, the rest of the team arrived.

Bram York was tall, trim and muscular, with brown eyes and dark hair, graying at the temples. His mouth was set in a grim line. He used a cane, but didn’t lean on it. Must help his balance, I thought.

Mad Man Malone did not fit his nickname. He was so darned normal. Average height, average weight, nondescript brown hair, unremarkable hazel eyes. He dressed in khakis and a blue short-sleeved knit shirt, worn rather loose. The polo hid his impressive biceps and his pants were cut to accommodate very muscular thighs. I decided not to underestimate either man.

Adriana wore a figure-flattering pants-and-jacket outfit in a lovely deep saffron color that avoided being mustardy. A neutral shell with a lacy band peeked out under the blazer and ankle boots in an orangey tan leather completed the look. So sleek, so current, so in tune with the new Adriana. I hugged her and whispered, “That’s so cute! I have to see all your new clothes—later, once we get away from these alpha men.”

She smiled and whispered back. “I told Stephano I wanted to shop with you for lingerie.”

“Deal,” I said, happy that I could be part of the makeover.

After introductions to Malone and another tray of coffee from Bertha, we all took seats. The security team’s positions covered the window and door. I made sure to sit next to Adriana on the couch. Bobbie was in a chair on her other side. I didn’t know if that was coincidence. Bobbie probably wanted to be close, in case Adriana fell apart at whatever bad news I had to impart.

Bart nodded at me and I started to tell the afternoon’s story. I didn’t sugarcoat it. The only way we would be safe was if the whole team knew the danger and was prepared to react. I took Adriana’s hand when I reached the part where Colonel Lewis gave his opinion about the hidden attic finds. “He thinks they may be items that were looted from Bosniaks—Muslim citizens of Bosnia.” Adriana gave a quick indrawn breath. “An associate of mine at UWM already identified one of the books as being on Interpol’s art crimes list. Lewis is going to do some checking with Interpol.”

Adriana spoke, her voice quiet, but resolute. “Angie, my parents had Bosniak friends when we lived there. I played with a Muslim girl, Reema. Mama gave her family many of the things we couldn’t bring with us when we left for the United States. My parents didn’t hate the Muslims. And there is no way they would steal from neighbors. No way.” Her eyes challenged me to refute her.

“How do you explain these things being locked away in the trunk in their attic, Adriana?”

“Perhaps someone gave them the trunk to keep it safe and they didn’t know what was in it. I don’t know how it got there.” She took her hand from mine and placed it in her lap. “My parents were the ones who were killed. Someone—maybe Petrovitch—took vengeance on them, not the other way round.”

“Uncle Herman” had now become “Petrovitch” in her mind. That was probably good. She needed to distance herself from him. But I couldn’t ease her fear or anger at the expense of the truth.

“Adriana,” I said, “there are millions of dollars in the bank accounts, with your parents’ names on them. There are these Bosniak artifacts. And someone killed your parents and Dragana Zupan. We don’t know why, not exactly, and we certainly aren’t sure who. We need a plan to expose the truth and none of us can afford to take any chances with these killers on the loose.”

Bobbie reached over to pat Adriana’s shoulder and she grasped his hand and held on. After an uncomfortable silence, Bram York said, “Bart, I believe the time has come to terminate your protection of Adriana, Bobbie and Angie. It would be best if I arrange for their personal security, until the guilty party or parties are brought to justice.”

I expected Bart to object, but he nodded. “I think you’re right. This calls for brains and specialists, not brawn. My primary concern is for their safety. How can I help?”

“First, step up your own personal security. Don’t be predictable. Same for Mrs. Conti. Next, transfer 50k to my bank account. I’ll use it to hire a trained force. The three of us”—he nodded at Spider and Mad Man—“aren’t enough. We need more manpower to guarantee the safety of your team. Last, with your permission, I’ll get in touch with Colonel Lewis and work with him and