Blood Kills, Nanci Rathbun [best books to read for self improvement TXT] 📗

drafted for Mikhail. There had not been time to—how did they say it?—finesse the situation. But the lawyer was breathing and no one else had entered the office to be harmed, so the damage was not extensive. She would recover. For that, she should be grateful.

He settled into the vehicle and thought about next steps. Once the police cleared Mikhail’s home and grounds, he could conduct a thorough search.

He patted the USB drive in his pocket. The danger of Mikhail’s incriminating evidence being delivered to the authorities could not be overstated. Until he found what his cousin hid, every avenue had to be eliminated.

Chapter 22

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Aristotle

My bedding resembled a war zone the next morning. Wrestling with angels, Aunt Terry often said. More like demons, I thought. I had reached no decision on whether to accept Mick Swanson’s posthumous charge. Maybe talking to the lawyer would bring me clarity.

I went through my lockstep morning routine—coffee, shower, makeup, clothes, Beretta secured in my briefcase holster—before placing a call on the landline.

“Law offices of Rebecca Franken,” said a shaky tenor voice. “May I help you?”

“I hope so. Ms. Franken drew up a will that benefits a client of mine. We’d like to engage her to help my client understand her duties as an executor and heir.”

“I’m sorry. She will be out of the office for an… indefinite period.”

“I see. Is there another attorney in the practice who might be available for a consultation?”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. I’m just cleaning up the mess and then the office will be closed until… further notice.”

“The mess?” I made my voice soothing and nonconfrontational.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Mr.?”

“Andrew. Just Andrew.”

“Andrew, my name is Angelina Bonaparte. Call me Angie. I’m a private investigator. It sounds like you’re upset and I don’t want to pressure you. Is there any way to get a short phone call with Ms. Franken?”

“She’s in the hospital.” He sucked in a breath. “She was attacked yesterday here in the office. I’m shutting everything down and leaving as soon as I can.” The sound of a drawer slamming closed reinforced the urgency in his voice. “I’m not putting my life on the line. If that makes me a coward, well…”

“Your reaction is absolutely understandable. Of course you shouldn’t be there if you think it’s unsafe,” I reassured him while my thoughts centered with dread on the undoubted connection to Mick and therefore to Debby.

He took in a ragged breath. “Thanks for that. It really shook me, I can tell you.”

“I’m sure. And how is Ms. Franken?”

“Concussion. Bruising. They kept her overnight and plan to release her later today. That is, if there’s someone who can stay with her. She never talks about family or close friends. Kind of an abrasive person, to be honest.”

“I see.” After a moment’s thought, I said, “My aunt is a patient liaison at several hospitals in the area. I bet she could make arrangements for Ms. Franken. That is, if you trust me enough to tell me which hospital she’s at.”

“Give me your name again,” he said.

I spelled it out for him.

“Okay, I’ll look you up and make a call to your office. If you answer, I’ll give you the information. She sure needs the help.”

“I’m not in the office right now, but leave a voice mail with a code of some sort and I’ll call you back.”

“Got it.”

I waited a minute and accessed the message: dillydally drew.

When I called Franken’s office and repeated the nonsensical words, Andrew said, “My mom used to call me that. You must be legit. Rebecca’s at Saint Mary’s. Uh, would you mind leaving a message on my cell once the plans are made? I, uh, I’ll need to let her know that I’m… resigning.” He gave me his number.

“Andrew,” I said, “I’m assuming the police were there.”

“Yeah, but that was after I left yesterday. She was alone when the guy got in.”

“I’ll get in touch with them. I think the attack on Ms. Franken might be part of an investigation that I’m pursuing. If she agrees, I really want my security guy to check your office computer. Maybe he can tell if anything was accessed. I might need to call you to get keys, but that can wait until your boss is well enough to agree.”

The poor guy was breathing hard now.

I gave him my cell number. “Please call me if you think of anything that might give me a clue as to who did this or why. And you can also call me if you continue to feel unsafe or need help. I don’t want to scare you, but if this is the same person, he’s dangerous. Be aware of your surroundings and don’t go places alone. You may want to have someone stay with you.”

“Omigod!” he exclaimed. “I’m outta here. The mess can wait.”

“That’s a good plan,” I semi-crooned. “I doubt the attacker will be interested in you, Andrew, since he probably got what he wanted last night. But be careful nonetheless. And call me if you feel threatened. I know people who can help.”

With more reassurances by me and thanks on his part, we disconnected.

Chapter 23

The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good [women] to do nothing.

Edward Burke

Wukowski would race into overprotective mode when I informed him about the attack on Mick’s lawyer and my possible involvement in the case, but I could see no alternative—he needed to know. I decided to ease into it with a text.

Me: Morning, caro. Got a minute?

Him: Maybe even five.

Me: I have info on the Swanson murder.

Him: Spill it.

Me: Look into an attack last night on Attorney Rebecca Franken. Then call me at home.

The landline rang ten minutes later. “Angie, what’s this got to do with Mick Swanson?”

Despite his less than romantic tone, his smooth baritone voice brought back memories of our dancing to “Sexual Healing” in my living room, which ratcheted up my heat level. I had little doubt