Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set Nanci Rathbun (i love reading books txt) 📖

is circumstantial evidence connecting him to the Zupan and Johnson murders. We’re still tracking the money and the connections to the Bosnian War.”

“Will you come back tonight and give us an update?”

“If I can.” He stood and walked over to the couch. Settling down on his haunches, he gently put a hand to my cheek. “Moja droga—”Iggy’s eyebrows rose—“we’ll talk about your recklessness once you’ve recovered. Iggy and I need to get back to the unit and report.” Before I could protest being termed reckless, he placed a butterfly kiss on my forehead, rose and turned to Aunt Terry. “Ma’am, Angie and Bobbie have the best protection available. Try not to stress. I hope to see you on Thanksgiving.”

As they made their way to the door, I closed my eyes and thought about the talk Wukowski said we would have. I’d worry about that later.

Chapter 26

What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty.

—William Shakespeare

It was just after eight that night when I got a call from a clerk in homicide. Detectives Ignowski and Wukowski were tied up and would get back to me as soon as they could. Bobbie and I were directed to appear at headquarters in the morning to sign the statements for the Illinois state troopers and make new statements for the MPD. I knew it was unreasonable—after all, Wukowski had bigger things to worry about than updating me, but I resented not knowing the current status of the investigation.

Aunt Terry wanted to stay overnight, but I convinced her that, with Bobbie in the guest suite, she’d have to share my bed, and I’d sleep better if she went home. When she left, I knocked softly on Bobbie’s door. A “sup?” gave me permission to stick my head in and tell him that we wouldn’t get any news tonight. I made a quick call to Spider, asking him to let Adriana know that Bobbie and I were okay and I’d call in the morning. Then I took a pill and fell into a restless sleep.

In the morning, I made a half-cut pot of coffee before calling Bart Matthews. A morning with no caffeine is simply not worth living.

After hellos, Bart chided me. “Bram called me last night to fill me in. Angie, you took a big chance, following Petrovitch.”

Another man telling me I was reckless! “It was a calculated risk, Bart. I couldn’t take the chance that Petrovitch would disappear again.”

“Yeah, I get that. Still, I hate to think about having to face Pasquale if anything happened to you.”

“To be honest, I hate to think about facing Papa, too.” That got a laugh. “I called to tell you that the MPD wants Bobbie and me to come downtown for statements. We also have to sign the statements we gave the Illinois state police yesterday.”

“Why don’t I pick you up at, say, ten? I’ll drive. That way, I can look over the paperwork before you sign.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t been in touch with Bram or the team. Is Adriana safe?”

“They moved her again. Bram won’t disclose the location. He says that no one short of Special Forces can get to her. I’ll tell him about today’s plans.”

“Let me call him. I want to apologize for the damage to his car.”

We ended the call and I took a long hot shower, relaxing in the steam and spray. I was still plenty sore, so I popped a couple of ibuprofen and wrapped myself in a luxuriously soft terry-and-microfiber robe.

When I emerged from the master suite, Bobbie sat at the kitchen peninsula, sipping coffee. “It’s half-cut,” I said. “In case Aunt Terry interrogates me, I can honestly say I drank decaf this morning. I don’t have to tell her it wasn’t all decaf.”

He grinned. “You are a master—um, mistress—of the strategic evasion.”

“It comes from years of living in a Sicilian family.” I ran down the scheduled events of the day.

“I’ll need some clean clothes. Mine got pretty ripped up yesterday. I don’t think Wukowski’s stuff will fit. We’re close in height, but he’s built huskier.”

“It’s all muscle,” I said in defense of my man. “And he doesn’t keep clothes here.”

Bobbie raised one eyebrow.

“Well, maybe a clean shirt or two and some boxers and socks. I’ll call Bram and see what he can organize. Okay if he or one of the team goes into your drawers and closet? Or medicine chest?”

“Yeah. But they’ll need to stop by for my key.”

“I doubt that not having a key will keep one of that bunch out.”

We ate toast and jam, neither of us having much appetite. I didn’t even have a second cup of half-cut. Aunt Terry was probably right about the combination of head trauma and caffeine. I told Bobbie to use the toiletries in the guest bath. Then I went to my closet.

What does one wear to homicide headquarters to make a statement, especially when one’s sweetheart is there in a professional capacity and is slightly ticked off at one? Sheesh—does the queen of England talk to herself that way?

My body protested the thought of any pressure on the red and purple bruises on my shoulders, hips and legs. My tummy was also purple, where I banged it climbing into the pipe. I settled on a figure-skimming knit tunic in dark amethyst, paired with gray leggings and dark gray ballet flats. A bright floral scarf, tied very loosely around my neck, finished the look. I groaned over wearing a bra, but I could hardly bounce into Wukowski’s domain. A stretchy sports bra and panties would suffice. I gingerly dressed, moaning with every arm raise and bend. Thank God, my feet didn’t hurt!

At nine o’clock, Spider arrived with a satchel. “Hope Bobbie’s okay with my choices. He had some pretty strange colors in his closet. I have no idea what goes with what, so I stuck with browns and blacks.” He smirked a bit. “And boxers.” Then he carefully enclosed me in a hug. “You’re really okay?”

“Really. Just