Free 1 Dog Collar Crime by Adrienne Giordano Page A

inch wide.
    The lack of sound in the house brought an odd sense of peace. Her parents’ home usually equaled a fair amount of stress, but now, with Joey and her mother out, Lucie thought about family get-togethers—Christmas, Easter, birthdays—that happened here.
    She smiled to herself, reminiscing about parties where loud voices barking orders mingled with the laughter of friends and extended family.
    One thing about her family, they threw a great party.
    Someone knocked on the front door. Shoot . She’d have to put the collar down and risk the stones shifting. Her go-to Notre Dame glass caught her eye. She picked it up, slammed the last of the diet pop hugging the bottom and turned the glass on its side. After stabilizing the glass between two bead containers, she draped the collar over it to dry. That might work.
    The knock came again, harder this time, and Lucie ran to the door expecting Sasquatch to be on the other side. She checked the peephole. Detective O’Brien.
    As uncomfortable as this guy made her, might as well be Sasquatch. Maybe there was a break in the case? Lucie tugged her faded T-shirt into place and swung the door open.
    “Hello, Detective.”
    He offered a closed-mouthed smile. “Ms. Rizzo, sorry to disturb you. May I come in?”
    “Of course.”
    She led him to the living room where he sat in Frankie’s favorite wingback chair. Lucie took the couch. “What brings you here?”
    “We had a call from the Glencoe P.D. this morning. One of their residents had a dog stolen yesterday.”
    No . It must have been one of her dogs or O’Brien wouldn’t be here. But wait. Glencoe? She didn’t have any clients in Glencoe.
    “Do you work in Glencoe?” O’Brien asked.
    “No.”
    A fiery punch of guilt landed square in Lucie’s chest. This poor dog was missing, the owners probably heartbroken, and she was relieved because it wasn’t one of her dogs. Could she be any more selfish?
    Not likely.
    “What’s the owner’s name?”
    O’Brien checked his notes. “Winthrop.”
    Whew . “Sorry. I don’t have a client by that name.”
    Still though, the name sounded familiar.
    The detective nodded. “I thought I’d see if we could connect the thefts. You haven’t had any more trouble have you?”
    She shook her head. “No.” Aside from the possibly stolen, fifteen-carat diamond in my safe deposit box.
    O’Brien clucked his tongue in a way that screamed disappointment. Clearly, the good detective wanted to tie these dognappings back to Joe Rizzo’s daughter. Sorry, pal, I’m legit .
    Most of the time.
    Diamond notwithstanding.
    “That’s good.” O’Brien tapped his left thumb on his thigh. “Be sure to call me if anything comes up.”
    “I will.”
    He stood. “Sorry to disrupt your day.”
    “No problem. I hope you find the missing dog.”
    I also hope it doesn’t have anything to do with me .
    As soon as O’Brien left, she charged up to her micro-bedroom and opened the revenue file on her laptop. Please don’t let there be anyone from Glencoe .
    She clicked on the master spreadsheet and searched for Glencoe. Bingo. She eyeballed the row. Oh, no. Please, no. Sweat bubbled on her palms and Lucie rubbed her hands over her jeans. Evelyn Winthrop attended Mrs. Lutz’s trunk show and bought a royal blue coat adorned with rhinestones. She also bought a collar.
    She stared at the Winthrop name on the spreadsheet and a flashing panic crawled up her throat. She opened her mouth, but nothing happened. The only sound was a sucking noise. She bent at the waist, the pressure behind her eyes building, building, building, as the floor shifted beneath her.
    She smacked a hand against her chest. She needed air. Calm. Slow. She closed her eyes, concentrated on one small breath, then another. Within seconds, the banging behind her eyes stopped and she stood straight. She spun around, but there was nowhere to go. The room was too damn small.
    Good God. The dognappers knew who her clients were. And her