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

The dishes would wait until morning.

Chapter 32

The course of true love never did run smooth.

—William Shakespeare

Wukowski’s cell alarm woke me at six a.m. My pique vanished when he leaned over me and kissed me in the uber-sensitive area just underneath my ear. “Sleep,” he said. “I’ve got to get to Homicide early.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” I told him.

“No time. I’ll grab a shower here. I can stop for something on the way downtown.” He feathered kisses across my shoulder. “Sorry to rush out like this.”

I brewed coffee and left a mug for him on the bathroom sink. It looked like snow outside. I turned on the early TV news to catch the forecast. “In an emergency hearing at the federal courthouse here in Milwaukee last night, a judge ruled that the case involving Herman Petrovitch, a local attorney who was shot and killed yesterday afternoon prior to being transported to Chicago, is now under FBI control. The Milwaukee Police Department issued a statement saying they would do all that is necessary to aid the FBI in their investigation.” Pictures of Petrovitch, Dragana Zupan and Josif Zupan flashed on the screen as the reporter speculated about motives.

Behind me, Wukowski snorted. “FBI didn’t waste any time.” He walked up to me, mug in hand. “I don’t know if this will lighten the load at work or make it worse.” He bent to kiss me. “I’ll call you later.”

As he turned to walk to the hall, the video from the truck stop played and the announcer continued. “Related to this story, our investigative reporter learned that Homicide Detective Ted Wukowski, who led the MPD investigation into the case, entered the building where Private Investigator Angelina Bonaparte lives at about eight last night and was not seen leaving the building before our reporter left at midnight.”

“Holy…” I sputtered, aghast at the display of pictures and the newscaster’s words.

Wukowski came back and stood beside me.

The reporter continued. “Ms. Bonaparte was one of two persons who escaped Attorney Petrovitch’s alleged attack at an Illinois truck stop, by leaping into a moving semi’s load of giant pipes. The video of those events has gone viral. It is unclear if Ms. Bonaparte, who was instrumental in the exoneration of alleged mobster Anthony Belloni last year, is in police custody. The police have issued a ‘no comment’ response to our request for information regarding Ms. Bonaparte.” He smirked directly into the camera and my cup jumped in its saucer. “Reliable informants tell us that Detective Wukowski and Ms. Bonaparte have a personal relationship.”

“That sonofa…” I was so angry that my muscles contracted in shivers.

Wukowski squeezed my shoulder, took my cup and steered me to the couch, where he sat down next to me. ‘Angie, if I’d thought for a moment that this could happen—”

“Don’t you dare tell me you would’ve turned around last night, Wukowski!”

“Settle down, little tiger. I’m only trying to say that I’m sorry for the news account, not for anything between us.”

I huffed a sigh of relief, then stiffened. “Omigod, Papa will explode when he hears this. And he’s an early riser.”

“Yeah, Mama won’t like it either,” Wukowski said. “Aw, hell, Angie, we’re not fifteen-year old virgins. We don’t need to hide from our parents.”

“True, but this is Milwaukee, not Hollywood. People don’t flaunt their…”

“Relationships? Lovers?” He shook his head. “Look, this isn’t casual to me. I don’t exactly know what to call this.”

“It’s not casual to me, either, caro.” I took his hands in mine. “Maybe we should just refuse to answer questions and let it die down.”

“You think that’ll work with your family?”

I groaned. “Not a chance.”

His cell phone rang. It was his turn to groan. “It’s Iggy, probably wondering where I am. We agreed to meet at six-thirty.”

“Go, go.” I shooed at him with my hands. “Call me later.”

I sat on the couch, stared at the TV and double-dog-dared them to make suggestive statements. I knew lawyers! Okay, I knew one lawyer, but he knew people. I’d sic Bart on them!

Papa called five minutes later. “Angelina, were you in jail? Why didn’t you call me?”

He thought Wukowski’d been here to arrest me. How could I explain the truth to my straight-laced papa, who still treated me as if I were a girl living under his roof? “Um, no, Papa, there was no arrest.”

“Thank God.” There was a moment of silence. “So, I conclude that this man cares so little for your reputation that he spent the night at your home while reporters lurked outside?”

“Honestly, Papa, we didn’t know they’d hang around half the night.”

“I see. Then as long as no one knew, it was all right with you?”

I had to stop for a moment and consider. If it had been my Emma caught in this situation, I’d be upset for her, but not with her. Papa was a different generation, though. To him, a woman’s virtue was paramount—although the men of his generation fooled around just as much as men did today, so where’d they find those “unvirtuous” women to dally with? His response would be: the women of my family behave as ladies, regardless of what other women do. I’d never make him see any different. I decided to address the effect rather than the cause.

“It’s very embarrassing to have that on the news, Papa. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring shame on the family.” I waited, hoping the code words would work.

“Hmph. Well, I suppose you will lead your life as you see fit, Angelina.”

Thank God, use of only my first name.

“But I expect this man to make amends.”

Huh? “I don’t understand, Papa. Do you want Wukowski to call and apologize to you?” I couldn’t imagine asking him to do that.

“No, Angelina, he must repair the damage. He must offer marriage to you.”

He couldn’t be serious! “This is the twenty-first century, Papa. People have love affairs. That doesn’t necessarily mean marriage is in the offing. I’m not sure I’d marry Wukowski if he asked me.”

“Madre