Veiled Threat (4 page)

six

Giulia didn’t speak until
Frank’s car was stuck in a long line at a red light.

“That miserable, self-centered—”

“Asshole.” He reached over and squeezed her gloved hand. “Any other words you want me to use so you don’t have to?”

She bit her lips. “A few.”

“Consider them said. The ironic thing is, you should thank Poole.”

“What?”

Frank laughed. “Your voice cracks when you’re angry.” Their turn at the light came, and he continued onto the freshly salted street. “Think about it: Jimmy was going to freeze us out of his office. I knew it even though he agreed to talk to us. This is police territory, period.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Jimmy’s people have the case. If he asks us to help, then we have an opening. You’ve seen enough movies where the police hate the PI. Constantly threaten to take away his license, won’t share information. That’s not my style. I’ve still got a great working relationship with Jimmy. I’m not jeopardizing that.”

Giulia’s arguments withered on her lips.

Frank glanced at her and nodded. “But then Poole-the-Asshole screwed up the report. Jimmy knows he’s lost a day on a time-
sensitive case. The responsibility is his; he’s in charge. He knows we won’t make a public stink about it, but your friends might.”

“What would you do it if were your baby?”

“Exactly. So we’re his early Christmas present. We want to help, we’re skilled, we’re his friends. Bam. We’re now officially assisting the police investigation and my excellent working relationship remains intact.” He flipped off a minivan as it ran the light. “I hope you skid into a telephone pole, asshole.”

“Frank.”

“Yeah, yeah, I should be more charitable. Tell the idiots who forget how to drive in this weather to stay off the road, and maybe that’ll happen.”

“At least you have a choice. Dealing with drivers who text and eat while steering with their knees is better than another winter taking the bus.”

Frank parked behind their building but didn’t shut off the ignition. “That’s the voice of someone who’s been reading
Auto Trader
magazine. You’re finally joining the ranks of the self-mobile?”

“I should be, but my allergy to debt is paralyzing me. My savings account has a few hundred dollars more than I need for the down payment on a certain used Saturn. Six years old, tan inside, copper outside.”

“You have car lust.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”

She rubbed her gloved hands together. “When did you last ride the bus in winter? The closed windows give free rein to the body odor.”

“Ouch.”

“Deodorant is cheap. Certain items should never be cut out of one’s budget.” She pinched her nostrils to clear out the phantom odor. “Since we’re still in the car, you must want to talk about something that can’t be discussed around Sidney.”

“Who said anything about talk?” He leaned across the seats and kissed her.

She responded like it hadn’t been two weeks since he’d said anything to her that wasn’t work-related. Then her brain rebooted. She pulled her lips away from his.

“It’s cold out here.”

“That’s why I left the heater on.” He reached for her again.

I’m going to regret this.
“We’re supposed to be working.”

He grinned. “I’m the boss. I can change work rules if I want.”

No, I’m not going to regret this.
“This is why office romances are a bad idea. We’re not on equal footing.” She unbuckled her seat belt to alleviate the trapped sensation. “Snogging belongs on dates, in private, not at eleven a.m. in a public parking lot.”

She stifled a smile at his baffled expression.
Did the man think his considerable charm offset everything else?

“But … we’ve been busy. When else are we supposed to have some private time?”

“People make time for what’s important.”

He leaned away. “I see you finally learned how to play hard-to-get. Tell
Cosmo
they can bite me.”

“I am not playing at anything. I’m tired of getting treated as your girlfriend when it’s convenient and your employee when it isn’t.” Her heart rate increased like she was at the end of a five-mile run. “Right now what’s important is getting Katie back.”

Frank popped his seat belt. “Fine. Glad to see I can always count on you to earn your pay.”

As they walked upstairs, Giulia imagined Frank taping a sign to her back:
Ice Queen
. For a moment she wanted to curse herself, until her
Cosmo
-studying kicked in. Instead, she patted herself on the back for not being a doormat to his erratic face-sucking moods. The convent had been hard. In a karmic-payback sense, dating should be easy.
Thanks for nothing, Universe.
She toed off her boots and opened the office door.

“You piece of crap!” Sidney was pulling at the file-cabinet lock.

“Sidney?” Giulia said.

Sidney jumped. “Giulia. Mr. D. Um … I pushed in the lock and it won’t pull out and I can’t find the key.”

Frank huffed. “There is no key. That’s why I got it so cheap at the used office supply place.” He scanned Sidney’s desk and picked up a large paper clip. “All right, ladies. Time for your first lesson in breaking and entering.”

“What?” Giulia and Sidney said in unison.

“Lock-picking. All good investigators know how to do this—unofficially, of course. First, open the paper clip so you have a bigger half-loop and a smaller half-loop. Break it in the middle.” He snapped the thin metal in two. “Now open each loop into an L.”

Sidney reached for the pink phone-message pad, but Frank stopped her. “If you stop watching to write it down, you’ll miss the technique. Okay, see this little hook at the end where I broke the clip in half? You stick that end into the bottom of the lock so the L points up.”

He pushed the smaller half of the paper clip into the jagged opening using his left hand, working it till it stopped. “See how I’ve placed it below the section that holds the wafers?”

“Wafers?” Sidney said.

“The pins, in some locks. The pieces of metal that the key fits into. Now you bend the pick down. If I did this right, I’ll get torque.” He applied pressure to the paper clip, and it popped out of the lock. “Good. That’s what happens when you do it wrong.” He reinserted it and pushed down. This time the metal stayed in place. “Good. See how I turned the L out of the way of the lock? Now take the other half.” He manipulated it in his right hand until the straight end pointed toward the file cabinet. “Slide this end—not the broken end with the hook—under the wafers.”

Giulia stood on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. “How do you tell when it’s in the right place?”

“You can feel the wafers. Here, take it.”

Giulia grasped the second half of the clip. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Move it in and out. Yes, like that. Can you feel the pins shift slightly?”

“Yes. Okay, now I get it. Here, Sidney.”

When Sidney had mimicked Giulia’s and Frank’s motion with the straight paper clip, Frank took it back.

“Here’s the tricky part. You’re going to want to practice this at home. A bike lock or a plain old padlock is fine. What you have to do with the bottom piece is turn the keyway clockwise, but without interfering with the pins—wafers. The pick does that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You both watching? Okay. Keep your left index finger on the torque half and hold the pick half at the rounded bend. Now you jog the pick up and down, fast but not rushed; you want to feel the wafers move. At the same time, you put clockwise pressure on the torque half. It’s like driving a stick.” After a few more wrist movements, the lock clicked and the cylinder popped out of the top corner of the file cabinet.

“There.” He removed the paper-clip pieces.

“Mr. D., that was awesome.” Sidney took the broken metal from him and turned the pieces over in her hands.

Giulia applauded. “I am officially impressed. However, I do not know how to drive a standard transmission.”

“I do,” Sidney said. “Dad taught me on the roads in the cemetery near our farm. It’s super-easy, Giulia. I could teach you in like half an hour.” She handed her a large paper clip and dropped one in her knapsack-sized purse. “Does that mean you’re getting a car?”

Giulia tucked the paper clip in the inner pocket of her much smaller purse. “Soon, I hope. Much sooner than I’ll need to break into a house or steal a bicycle with this new skill.”

“Always be prepared. You never know when you might encounter a stray file cabinet in need of help.” Frank peered into his part of the office. “That’s right. I didn’t bring coffee because we went to Jimmy’s.”

Giulia opened her mouth to offer to run downstairs to Common Grounds, but the
Cosmo
fairy sitting on her shoulder shut it for her.

“Eh, I drink too much caffeine anyway. Sidney, any messages?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I forgot when I tried to find the key to that stupid lock.” She picked up two bright-pink message slips. “Monsignor Harvey’s assistant said he really wants you to call before noon, and your mom called right after you left.”

Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Is there anything less professional than having your admin tell you to call Mom?”

Giulia laughed. “Real men call their mothers regularly. This lets them cut the line into heaven.”

“I’ll remember that.” He closed the door of his half of the office behind him.

Giulia pulled out her cell and redialed Laurel. “It’s me again, sweetie. Can you email me everything you just sent to the police station? Here’s my address.” She waited while Laurel clicked her mouse. “I’m going to take a look at it on my lunch hour … yes, of course I’ll call you if I have any ideas … I know … I have to get back to work now.”

Sidney plopped a stack of documents on the edge of her desk and opened the top file cabinet drawer.

“I told you we’re going to have food stations at the reception, didn’t I?”

Giulia discarded three emails. “You did. What did Olivier decide to have on his side?”

Sidney jogged papers into one of the hanging folders. “Teriyaki pork kebabs at one, little corned beef sandwiches with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut at another, chicken wings at the third one.”

Giulia looked up. “Reubens?”

“Yeah, that was it. He went into rhapsodies over sauerkraut and Russian dressing and rye bread—which I could eat if I liked sauerkraut—but corned beef? Ew. I can just picture his poker gang glomming onto that preservative-filled heart-attack fodder.” More papers disappeared into the file drawer.

“Maybe their wives will encourage them to try your stations.” Giulia opened an unfinished spreadsheet and her Day-Timer and started typing in her handwritten information.

“Puh-lease. Olivier says they might try the free-range chicken dumplings if we don’t tell them they’re healthy. But he says they’ll run away from the mushroom pâté and the corn-and-pumpkin stew. It’s all grown locally—even the wheat used to make the bread for the bruschettas.”

“As long as everyone has a good time …” Giulia’s voice trailed off as she deciphered her own writing.

“That’s what Mom says. You’re right. I’m just nervous.”

Giulia hit
Save
. “Why?”

Sidney closed one drawer. “Not about marrying Olivier. He’s wonderful and I love him and I love his family too. About everything being perfect. I worry that I’ll turn into one of those Bridezillas or that we’ll get to the church and the Pope will burst open the doors and tell everyone that the wedding is canceled because I failed that test on church history.”

“You failed that test?” Giulia fought—and conquered—her desire to smile at the picture of the Pope and two dozen attendant Cardinals invading quiet little Our Lady of Perpetual Help. “Did you freeze?”

“I overloaded. I was okay with the real early stuff, but when the test got to the Borgias and all those corrupt popes, everything scrambled in my brain like eggs. Plus I hadn’t eaten that morning and I thought of eggs and—
poof
. There went half my studying. All I could think about was a mushroom omelet.”

“You can retake it.”

“Not till after the honeymoon. It wouldn’t have changed the wedding plans even if I did pass, because I’ve got a bunch of steps to go before I become 100 percent Catholic and can join in Communion and everything. Father Pat’s got our whole liturgy set up, and says that everyone’ll be going to church the next day for Christmas anyway because it’s Sunday, so it’s not like they’ll be missing their Communion for the week.”

Frank opened his door. “Seven.”

“Seven what?” Giulia said.

“Seven separate commissions from the Diocesan Office. Did you have any idea the Church had so many projects they didn’t want to handle themselves?”

“That wasn’t my area, but I’m not surprised. Look at the scope of their works and the number of parishes.”

“Plus all the nuns are jumping ship.”

She stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Wall. Jumping the wall.”

“You are such an English teacher.”

“Besides, what makes you think that any Community would handle these commissions? Nuns aren’t private investigators.”

Frank’s expression was the picture of ingenuous. “Come on. Nuns are all-powerful and all-knowing. Like all the nuns who taught me in high school.”

The phone rang. Sidney ducked under the open file-cabinet drawer to answer it.

“Perhaps I should’ve kept one of the habits from the Motherhouse undercover job. It seems to be the only symbol you respect.”

“Not true.” Frank ticked points off on his fingers. “I respect the Steelers’ defensive line, the power of Jameson, Manchester United’s keeper, and the prompt person who cuts the checks for the Church. DI’s account balance is a joy to behold.”

“Sidney and I will expect fat Christmas bonuses, then.” As Sidney hung up the phone, Giulia added, “Right, Sidney?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Um, yes?”

Frank made head-clawing motions. “You two will bankrupt me.”

“If you want to retain good employees, you have to give them proper incentive.”