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

in the business arena.” Okay, okay. I backed up ten yards and started over.

“Look, I’m sorry for the act. But I was sincere about wanting to get together and share our findings. If you don’t think it’s useful, I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be useful.” I heard typing. “Looks like Iggy and I are free tomorrow morning, say ten o’clock?”

“Perfect. My office? I have a meeting at eleven-thirty so I want to stay close.” Not true, but I would schedule something now, just to make it true. Anything to avoid those smelly, desperation-soaked interrogation rooms at police headquarters.

“Sure thing. See you then.”

I heard his laugh, low and soft, as he hung up, and I smiled. A worthy opponent.

***

True to my promise to myself, I called Bobbie Russell at Dunwoodie’s and arranged to meet at eleven-thirty the next day. “How was Jane after the funeral?” I asked him.

“Really broken up. John had to take her home and call the doctor. He explained to me about their little girl. Tough. Really tough.”

“The worst,” I agreed. “Bobbie, I wonder if you can check something for me. I need to know what was on John and Jane’s calendars, on the night Elisa was killed.”

“Holy…you think one of them did it?”

“Not really. I’m just trying to fill in some gaps. I never thought to ask Jane or John, when I interviewed them, where they were that night. If I bring it up now, they’ll have the same reaction you did.”

“Who could blame them?”

“So I was wondering if you could take a peek at their calendars, before they get back to the office.”

“I don’t know, Angie. It might be unethical.”

“I just want to eliminate them as suspects.” He didn’t answer. “Of course,” I continued, “I can ask the police detectives. But if they never thought to ask the Dunwoodies, either, then my question might lead them in the wrong direction.”

“Hmmm.” A few seconds pause. “Okay, let me see what’s there, then I’ll decide if I can tell you.” I heard the sounds of keyboard clicking, then he was back. “Looks like Jane was at a seven o’clock meeting of the RCCLU, and John was at a Rotary dinner.”

“What’s the RCCLU?” I asked.

“Roman Catholic Civil Liberties Union. You know, the right-wing group that’s always denouncing something.”

“Any idea how long the meeting lasted?”

“She blocked out two hours.”

“Where do they meet?”

“It says ‘Da Vinci Room, Italian Community Center.’ But last month, it was at the Archbishop Cousins Center. The month before, O’Herlihy’s Tavern. Quite a variety. Everything but your local gay bar or Protestant church.”

His comment made me wonder. “Bobbie, does Jane know you’re gay?”

“Just like in the Service, she never asked, I never told.”

“It might be illegal, but I bet she’d fire you if she found out. Watch yourself, okay?”

“I’m getting ready to move on, anyway. One of my friends needs some help with his business and he’s offering me a much better salary than Dunwoodie’s. I plan to give notice on Friday.”

“Good luck. By the way, where was the Rotary dinner that John attended?”

“Let’s see. Would you believe, the Marconi Room at the ICC? Right next door to Jane’s meeting. Convenient. They probably drove together.”

“Thanks, Bobbie. You’ve been a big help. I still want to take you to lunch tomorrow. Maybe La Scala at the ICC?”

“Angie, you bad girl, what have you got up your sleeve?”

“Me?” My voice dripped with innocence. “Not a thing. Unless some of the waitstaff happened to be working the night that Elisa died. In that case, I might want to talk with them.”

“Oy vey, as my friend would say.”

“Jewish?”

“Only a very small part of him.”

We were laughing as we hung up.

***

The receiver barely touched the cradle before the phone rang again. Caller ID showed me the name—Schroeder K. I took a deep breath and blew it out, told myself not to be a baby, and answered. “Hi, Kevin.”

“Hi, Angie. Gee, I thought I’d get your voice mail again.”

“Nope, it’s the real me. I’m working from home this afternoon.”

“The Morano case is keeping you really busy?”

“Today was the funeral. I attended and then I had lunch with the police detectives.”

“Was that Wukowski guy one of them?”

“Afraid so.” An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. “He told me that they don’t think you have any connection with the case. He came as close to apologizing as I suspect he ever does.”

“Some men have a real hard time verbalizing their feelings.”

Some women, too, I thought. Like me. Like now.

“Anyway, Angie, I hate to say this on the phone, but you’re so tied up now and it might be weeks before we can get together, and I wouldn’t want you to go on thinking…” He cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing, Angie. I think you’re a wonderful and sexy woman. But you’re just not the woman for me.”

What? WHAT? Kevin was breaking up with me? After all my agonizing over how to break it off? No way! No freaking way!

“I see,” I responded in a neutral tone. My voice hardly quavered at all. “You pursue me for weeks, you finally get me in bed, and then you decide I’m not the one? Is that what you’re telling me, Kevin?”

“Please, Angie, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You’re a great person. I respect and value you and I hope we can be friends.”

The kiss of death—I hope we can be friends. All that remained was to decide whether the conversation would end with polite good wishes or hateful words. I chose the former, although I wanted like hell to say the latter. But first, I had to have my say. “I’m afraid that friendship is not an option, Kevin. You see, I don’t seduce my friends. I don’t sleep with my friends. I know the difference between someone who’s a potential lover and someone who’s a friend. Friends don’t treat each other the way you treated me.”

“Come on, Angie,” he whined.

I wanted—oh, so much—to use just one of Lela’s funny lines, to tell him