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

“Damn it. I know they thought it was an opportunistic killing, but there’s no excuse for shoddy work. I need to read the report again and get the techs back to the store. Did you go into the stock room?” I shook my head. “Good.”

He picked up his mug. “We still need to talk about your working this case.”

I waited, silent.

“My parents left Poland after World War II, trying to flee the Soviets. They raised my sister and me to follow the traditional ways. Women took care of the home and the family. Men took care of business and made sure their families were protected and provided for. I know you’re a capable person, Angie…in my head. But my heart and my gut say that you’re a woman putting yourself in harm’s way, and that’s hard for me to accept.”

I nodded, thinking about what he said. We were both from the generation that had all our early values challenged by the women’s movement. I struggled with it in my marriage, wanting not only to please my husband and be a good mother, but also to have something for myself, something I could claim as mine and not as collateral to a relationship. How could I fault Wukowski for his turmoil, when I still dealt with my own?

“Are you asking me to remove myself from the case, Wukowski?”

The silence was painful. It weighed on my chest until I found it hard to take a breath. Please don’t ask me to choose between being me and being with you. Not like my ex. Not again.

It seemed like forever, before he answered. “I wouldn’t try to run your life that way, Angie. Promise me this—don’t get into a situation where you’re in physical danger. No more stunts like you and Bobbie pulled in the Belloni case. If you learn something or even suspect it, come to me. It’s not your job to put yourself on the line. It’s mine. Let me do it. Okay?”

“I can’t make a blanket promise, Wukowski. There might be a situation that requires immediate action. Or maybe, as a private citizen, I can do something that you officially cannot. But I promise to be vigilant.” He started to speak, but I held up my hand. “That’s the best I can do. Last night, you said you didn’t want to lose me over issues with your mother. Well, I don’t want to lose you over issues about my work.”

The seconds ticked by. Then he pulled me up and cradled my head in his big hands. His thumbs traced my eyebrows, moved over my cheekbones and feathered across my lips. Neither of us had words, so we simply held each other and kissed, but not with the passion of the previous night. Something else resonated between us. It was, at the same time, both more elusive and more solid.

Chapter 9

A discovery is said to be an accident meeting a prepared mind.

—Albert Szent-Gyorgyi

After Wukowski left, I had a light breakfast of yogurt and fruit. Then I rang Bobbie’s number.

“Whoosit?” His voice was scratchy.

“It’s Angie. Bad night? Is Adriana okay?”

“It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. She’s asleep. Like I should be.”

“So is this your it’s-too-early-for-my-bad-self-to-be-awakened routine? Or is something else in the wind?”

“Hold on.” I heard water and the whoosh-thump-thump of Bobbie’s coffee brewer. “Ahh. Caffeine. Nothing like it,” he said.

“I agree. Now talk. Is Adriana okay?”

“Pretty much. We ordered Chinese last night and watched Steel Magnolias. I figured that a little bout of tears followed by an uplifting life-goes-on message would be a good thing. About ten, she went to her room. I watched the news in my bedroom. Letterman’s top ten were starting when Steve called from New York. He’s working on a new hush-hush project.”

I smiled. According to Bobbie, the fashion industry was as plagued by espionage as the NSA.

“We talked until almost midnight. Then I decided to raid the fridge. That’s when I heard Adriana crying.”

“Oh, jeez,” I said.

“Yeah. Sobbing her little heart out. So I knocked on the door and told her to blow her nose and wash her face and come out for some hot chocolate. I slipped a little brandy into the cups.”

“Bobbie!”

“A medicinal amount, Angie. Not enough to get her sloshed. It helped her relax and we sat up until three, talking. She’s really hurting. Not only over her parents’ deaths. It’s the betrayal that’s hitting her hard. That they lied to her about the money and even worse, about the way they lived.”

“Yeah, I got some of that from her, too. So what did you do?”

“Well, I tried to reassure her that her parents really did love her. But she wasn’t having it. She was like a whipped puppy, all curled up on the end of my sofa.” He sighed. “So I told her the sad tale of how my folks disowned me when I came out. How it hurt. How it made me feel unloved and unlovable.”

I thought about how Papa disliked my being a PI. He’d never turn away from me, though. No matter what path I chose, he’d still be my papa. “I never knew, Bobbie. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yeah, well, in a way, it was liberating. I didn’t have to pretend any more or try to fit their expectations. That’s what I told Adriana. That she could see it as her own personal failure and let it drag her down, or she could see it as their failure and move on, do what she wants to do with her life. I don’t know if it helped, but she wasn’t crying when she went back to bed. I tiptoed down the hall to check on her about an hour later and all was quiet.”

“You’re a good man, Bobbie. I’m glad you’re my friend.”

“Right back at ya, Angie. Not the man part, though!”

We laughed and I disconnected. I tidied the kitchen, took a shower and dressed. Time to visit the Johnson