Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set Nanci Rathbun (i love reading books txt) š
- Author: Nanci Rathbun
Book online Ā«Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set Nanci Rathbun (i love reading books txt) šĀ». Author Nanci Rathbun
Ignowski leaned forward and shouldered Wukowski slightly, pushing him into the back of the banquette. āAngie, Iām gonna be square with you. We aināt got shit. Not for proof, anyway. Obviously, Tonyās prints and hair and DNA are all over the apartment, but any good lawyer can talk his way out of that. After all, they wereā¦cohabiting, right?ā
I nodded, amused that Iggy thought he needed to clean up his language for me.
āBut,ā he continued, āwe got nothing to place him at the scene that night. And youāre saying that there are plenty others who would want to see her dead?ā I nodded. āSo seems to me, we got a problemāone very dead woman, multiple suspects, no evidence strong enough to convict. How ābout you help us out? Tell us about the others. The ones who maybe hated her enough to kill her.ā
Sipping my diet soda, I thought about what Iggy just said. They didnāt know about Tony sitting outside her apartment that night. They didnāt seem aware of the undercurrents surrounding Marsha or Alan or Richard Llewellyn. Obviously, they hadnāt interviewed Mrs. Lembke or Bobbie Russell. They didnāt know about the letter. I couldnāt hold them accountable for that, but Wukowskiās ājust the factsā approach to interrogation wasnāt working too well. I wanted to shove my female, non-professional, pop psychology methods in his face. But I just smiled sweetly and responded with a shake of the head.
We paid the check and they drove me back to the gym. No one spoke. When we got there, Wukowski dove into a red Jeep Wrangler, slammed the door and peeled away. Iggy waited while I started the Miata. I waggled my fingers in acknowledgement and drove home.
Chapter 16
Whatās of significance is sweet, however mistaken; one could make up oneās mind to whatās insignificant even. But pettiness, pettiness, thatās whatās insufferable.
āIvan Turgenev
My satisfaction was short-lived. I mentally chastised myself for being mean-spirited and wondered if Iād forfeited all chance to exchange information with Iggy and Wukowski. Damn it, I thought, I let Wukowski get the better of me. I hate that feeling.
I parked the Miata in its underground space, grabbed my gym bag, purse and briefcase and took the stairs to the lobby, reminding myself as I climbed to call Bertha and let her know I was safely home. The last thing I wanted tonight was a couple of goons pounding down my door.
At least, I thought it was the last thing I wanted. Until I opened the stairway door and saw Kevin sitting on a lobby couch, reading a magazine. He tossed it down and came toward me, hands outstretched. āAngie, I owe you an apology.ā
My right eyebrow rose, involuntarily. My kids always referred to it as the Mean Mommy look. āReally? What for?ā Showing up at my home unannounced? I thought. Invading my privacy? Catching me unprepared?
Kevin didnāt know me well enough to be alarmed. āI was concerned that maybe I came on a little strong on Saturday.ā The elevator doors opened and a couple whom I didnāt know exited. āCan I come up?ā he asked. āJust for a moment. Iād like to talk.ā
The couple stood at the mailboxes, listening. āOkay. Sure.ā As the elevator doors closed on us, I turned to Kevin. āLook, itās been a long day and Iām not sure Iām really up to it. Maybe this isnāt a good idea right now.ā
āTen minutes, Angie. Iāll even throw in a foot rub.ā
Confident bastard, arenāt you? I thought. Then I stopped myself. Where was this hostility coming from? Kevin isnāt Wukowski. Give him a chance.
He took the gym bag so that I could unlock the door. There, on the threshold, lay a white envelope, lettered in black magic markerāAngelina Bonaparte. Kevin bent down to retrieve it.
I body-blocked him with my shoulder and said, āNo. Leave it. Donāt touch it. Just come inside.ā As I put my purse and briefcase in the coat closet, I explained about the threatening letter at the office and gave him orders to go before I called Bart and the police.
āNo way, Angie. Iām staying until the police get here. Maybe I should search the place?ā
āThatās sweet, Kevin. But if the letter-writer could get inside, I donāt think heād be stupid enough to leave the letter as a warning.ā
āOh, yeah, guess youāre right.ā He looked a little deflated and I realized that Iād just called him stupid and taken away his opportunity to act the macho man for me. He recovered, though. āIāll put some water on for tea while you make those calls.ā
The phone was ringing as I headed for the bedroom. āAngie, itās Bertha. Why didnāt you call me? I was just about ready to notify Bart.ā
āCalm down, Bertha. I just got home. And youāll need to call Bart anyway. There was another note under my door when I got here. The envelope looks just like the one from my office. This time, I think I have to let the police know.ā
āI agree. Iāll talk some sense into Bart. This canāt go on.ā
Three minutes later, Bart called. āAngie, I talked to Marco this afternoon. As far as he knows, thereās no Family involvement. Bertha tells me that you want to talk to the police?ā
āI think I have to, Bart. They might be able to swallow my silence on the first note, but if they find out there was a second and I didnāt tell them, they could bring me up on charges for impeding an official investigation.ā
āOkay. Go ahead.ā He took a drag on his cigarette. āIāll drive over to the office and wait for them
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