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

“You won’t want a stranger in the middle of that,” she said.

“The way I see it, you’ll be a buffer. I already invited some others—Bobbie and maybe his partner, Steve, if Steve makes it back to town in time. The attorney on this case, Bart Matthews. How about it?”

She hesitated for a moment, but then agreed with a smile.

After I gave her the details for Thursday, she returned to her desk. I met Bobbie at the library entrance. “Bram just called me,” he said. “He’s waiting on Hartford Avenue. He said to leave the Miata here. The news broke and the hounds are on our trail.”

I sighed. “I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.”

We crossed the commons and saw Bram’s truck idling at the curb. As we approached, he reached over and opened the passenger side door. “I’m smaller. I’ll sit in the middle,” I told Bobbie. I didn’t see a granny handle, but there was a running board. I set my purse and briefcase on the floor and used the side of the truck for purchase as I stepped up. Bobbie gave me a boost that was mostly goose, while Bram offered me a hand and pretty much hauled me inside. Oh, the indignities visited upon the short people of the world!

“I’m sorry about the Cruiser,” I said as I buckled up. Soft jazz played on the radio. “I know it’s harder for you to use the truck.”

“No big deal. Really. I’m pleased to find out that it isn’t as hard to climb in as it was. Guess the therapy’s working.” He headed south, turning the radio volume down. “Adriana’s been staying at Spider’s place since the funeral. It’s not procedure, but he has the highest tech security outside the Pentagon.” He grimaced. “The way things are these days, maybe it beats the Pentagon. The Mulcaheys live in Delafield, about thirty miles from here.”

“Mulcaheys, plural? His wife and son are there, too? I hate to think of them in harm’s way, if someone tries to get at Adriana.”

“Spider wanted to send Magda and Joey away for a couple of days,” Bram said, “but she refused. She told Spider that no one would threaten her family and live to tell the story. She’s in Mama Bear mode, now that they’re expecting again. Twins.”

“Spider showed me a snapshot. How old is their little boy?”

“Joey’s four. Great kid. They asked me to be one of the godfathers for the twins.” His voice was soft and contained just a hint of bemusement.

“How wonderful. Do they know the babies’ genders?”

“Not yet, but I know they hope for at least one girl, even though Spider says it scares him a lot more than parenting a boy.”

“It’s nice that he cares that way,” Bobbie said. “Not every father does.” He cleared his throat. “Will they have a problem with me being there?”

“Why should they?” Bram asked.

“Some people have this crazy notion that all gays are pedophiles.”

Bram glanced over. “Yeah? Well, that’s stupid thinking.”

“No doubt, but it’s their home we’re going to.”

“Uh, Bobbie,” Bram said, “Spider and I already knew…well, guessed…that you’re gay. He knows that you’re coming with Angie and he didn’t object, so no worries.”

As we traveled west from Milwaukee, city gave way to suburbia and then to farmland, punctuated by small towns. Bram took the Delafield exit, turned off Main Street and drove past St. John’s Northwestern Military Academy, a boarding school for boys. The fall colors had morphed into bare tree branches. Winter was hard on our heels.

The mellow music on the radio was suddenly interrupted midstream by a jarring voice. “Breaking news,” the announcer said. Bram turned the volume up. “Herman Petrovitch, a local attorney accused of immigration violations and conspiracy to commit murder, was shot and killed as he exited the county jail under police escort this afternoon. He was being transported to Chicago for arraignment in the immigration violations. The shooter then turned the gun on himself. The apparent murder-suicide happened about fifteen minutes ago. Police are not releasing information on the shooter yet. We’ll update you as events transpire.”

Bram pulled the truck over and put it into park. We sat in silence for a few seconds, stunned. Bobbie put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently. Then Bram’s phone rang. He checked the display and answered. “Du Pont, what the hell is happening?” He listened. “Yeah, I know. If you don’t mind dying yourself, there’s not a lot that can stop you. I’m with our two investigators, on our way to…the girl.” More listening. “Okay. Keep me updated.” He set the phone on the dash, silenced the radio, rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

After a long silence, he spoke. “That was Du Pont. He got a call from one of the U.S. Marshals on the case, a buddy of his who knew he was involved.” Bram sighed and turned to us. “Josif Zupan showed up at the jail with a sawed-off shotgun and blew Petrovitch’s head off. Before they could get to him, Zupan put the barrel into his own mouth and pulled the trigger.”

Bobbie gasped.

“God almighty,” I whispered, half curse and half prayer.

“There’ll undoubtedly be a big investigation and lots of accusations of improper conduct on the part of the police. Bottom line, though, a killer on a suicide mission is nearly impossible to stop.” He put the truck into drive and made a U-turn. “The cops are on their way to pick up Adriana.”

“Don’t turn back,” I protested. “She needs someone with her. There’s no way she was involved in this.”

“They know that, Angie.” He glanced at me. “Zupan had a note in his coat pocket. Part of it is addressed to Adriana.”

“Bram, she needs someone with her, a friend, when she reads that.”

“Yeah.” He thought for a moment. “Call Spider and tell him what just went down. Have him make sure Adriana asks for legal representation at the station. Then call Bart. He can maybe