Frankie's Back in Town
“He was breathing fine when I left,” his father scoffed. “Just don’t mention you saw me.”
“No problem.”
His father adjusted the pin on the weights and got down to business. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be with Jessica Mathis at the gallery opening? I thought your mother said it was tonight, which is why she didn’t ask you to babysit the dog.”
Jack supposed it was good to know she’d have trusted him. “Had to cancel. Working an investigation with Randy.”
His father gave a low whistle. “Better come up with a better reason than that. Your mother will be asking how your date went. Trust me. She likes Jessica.”
“Don’t want to hear it.”
His father chuckled. “A heads-up then because if you think your mother is ever going to back down, think again.”
“She says she wants me to be happy,” Jack said.
“You’re thirty-four, Jack, and single. She doesn’t think you can be happy.”
“Run interference for me. Remind her that she wouldn’t settle for coming in second to your job.”
His dad shook his head. “Don’t know a woman who would.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Lots of women don’t mind the trade-off. Otherwise no doctor on this planet would be married. Pastors or professional athletes, either. She’s out there. Trust me. I just haven’t found her yet.”
“So I should tell your mother to cool her jets because you’re looking for the perfect woman.”
“Yeah.”
Something about that seemed to amuse his dad, who smiled and said, “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not sure anything will work. Your mother’s biological clock is ticking.”
“What started all this up again?”
“Kelly had twins. You’d think those babies were our grandchildren with the way your mother’s been shopping. She even had a sign made for Kelly that reads Twins and Another. What a Lucky Mother!”
Jack sighed.
Kelly was a long-time family friend, a car pool buddy from elementary school. There was no way Jack could compete with Kelly’s ten-year marriage, three kids and white picket fence.
His dad knew it, too. He set the weights into place with a light clank and faced Jack. “Maybe I’ll try the doctor angle. Sacrificing yourself for the good of mankind should appeal to her.”
“Sounds noble.” Jack chuckled. “Protecting the streets is saving lives. Trust me.”
“That’s what you’re doing over at Greywacke Lodge? Saving lives?”
Jack paused midcurl and let the barbell rest on his thigh. “How’d you hear about Greywacke Lodge?”
“Your grandfather is close friends with Judge Pierce. Remember, they’re both past Grand Knights?”
“Got it.” Bluestone’s good old boy connection.
“So does your grandfather. He’s decided your investigation is another reason not to consider senior living.”
At eighty-two, Jack’s grandfather was definitely past the point where living alone was good for his health and everyone else’s stress levels. If his mother and Michaela didn’t bring food every day, the stubborn old guy would starve.
He couldn’t get out much anymore. His failing eyesight made driving unsafe even when the roads weren’t half iced over in the dead of winter. Jack squeezed in time for visits whenever he was in that part of town, but he could tell by how reluctant his grandfather was to let him leave again that those visits weren’t nearly enough.
“So what’s Granddad waiting for?” Jack asked. “You to invite him to move into your place?”
“Already did. Makes sense. At least we’d have Michaela to keep her eyes on him. It’s not like your mom or I are around enough to get in his way.”
“What’s the problem then?”
“Doesn’t want to lose his independence. If he gives up the house…” He let the thought trail off. “But from what I’m hearing about theft at Greywacke Lodge, maybe that isn’t the answer, either.”
“Theft?”
His father paused in between reps and leaned back on the bench, dragging the towel across his face. “Isn’t someone stealing the residents’ credit cards?”
“Granddad said that?”
They exchanged a glance. “Then you’re not investigating the woman who runs the place?”
Jack shook his head. “Haven’t even ruled out the card owner.”
“Oh. Your grandfather must have misunderstood. Not like that hasn’t happened before.”
“Maybe not. You’re not the first person to mention this.”
“Didn’t you go to school with the woman who runs the place, Jack?”
“Yeah. Same year, anyway.”
“So you weren’t friends? She never came over to the house?”
“No, Dad. She never came over to the house.”
His father nodded, looking relieved. Too relieved. This, to Jack’s surprise, annoyed him. A lot. A woman whose name hadn’t yet come up in this investigation shouldn’t be speeding into first place on his suspect list.
“What did Granddad say about her?”
“Not much. Just that she’d been a troublemaker, so no one’s surprised there’s trouble now she’s back. I can’t imagine your grandfather knew the girl. I assume the judge said something.”
Jack set the weights on the rack and took a moment to stretch out his upper back. He let the quiet of the gym, marked only by the rhythmic whisper and clang of the weights and his father’s controlled breathing, deflect his irritation.
“Like I said, we haven’t even ruled out the card owner yet. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all this to yourself. This fire doesn’t need any fanning.” He leveled a meaningful gaze at his dad. “You’re getting that straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“Understood.”
Good enough for Jack. He’d do his bit to knock down speculation about Frankie. A lot of years had passed since high school, and the woman he’d met didn’t strike him as a criminal. He had a good gut instinct, one he trusted.
Frankie might have been a troublemaker once, but she’d been helpful and professional when he’d been at Greywacke Lodge. He liked how she’d handled the Hickmans, clarifying details and reassuring them when they’d been unsettled. She was also unexpectedly beautiful, and he hadn’t been able to resist digging out his old high school yearbook to jog his memory.
Everyone of the class of ’93 had looked ridiculous in their senior pictures. Himself included. A rite of passage, he guessed. Frankie’s young face had been framed by fuzzy hair, the same caramel color it was now—not quite blond, not quite brown, but somewhere in between. But that was where the similarities had ended. Her gaze had been narrowed and her mouth set tight. As if she hadn’t had all that much to smile about.
But now she was full of easy smiles, courteous professional smiles for him and Randy. Warm, reassuring smiles for the Hickmans. Appreciative, friendly smiles for the assistant who’d made copies at her request.
Jack wasn’t sure why he’d noticed, except that he’d been on red alert because folks were already implicating her. Or maybe he’d been reconciling the beautiful professional with the girl who’d once sold forged hall passes.
He reached for the barbell when a cell phone rang. Jack didn’t recognize the ringtone. His father set the weights down too fast, and the resulting crash echoed through the quiet gym. He fumbled for the phone buried beneath a sweaty towel.
“I hope this isn’t the damned dog.” He snapped open the phone and said, “Hey, what’s up?”
Jack realized his mother must be on the other end when his father said, “No, he’s hanging in there, hon. Don’t worry. I’ll text you if anything changes, but it won’t. Not until you get back. Gus-Gus is tough.”
Jack couldn’t help but smile, which earned a scowl from his father. “Just enjoy the night and give my regrets to the governor. I’ll see you in the morning.”
After disconnecting the call, he dropped the phone on the bench. “I’d better not push my luck. She’ll probably call Michaela to double check.”
“I hope Gus-Gus doesn’t bite it on your watch.”
“For real.” Swinging his legs around the bench, he stood. “This was good. We should meet here more often. You hear me?”
“I hear you.” Jack factored a few more hours into his perfect day. “I’ll make time.”
“I’m serious, Jack. There’s more to life than work.”
So he’d been told. But right now all Jack could think about was work, and the woman that too many people were convinced should be his number one suspect.
CHAPTER FOUR
ONLY ELEVEN O’CLOCK AND Francesca already knew this day was on its way downhill. Forcing a smile, she slipped the neatly stacked papers back into a folder and said, “Looks like you’ve covered everything with the proposed change to the cable service provider, but I’d like to take some time to consider any hidden overhead before making a decision.”
“I’ve defined all the costs in the budget narrative,” Susanna Adams, chief financial officer, said. “I know the property is new, but now the cable company has installed this far up the mountain, they can offer us a bundled service package that will reduce our overhead considerably. They’re eager for our business and will make the hardware changes without cost to us. Switching only makes sense.”
“I just want to look at the learning curve for a new system. I’m not worried about our staff, but the residents…” She smiled. “It’s phone, TV and Internet. Some can barely work the existing system after six months of living here. I’m sure you’ll have answers to all my questions here, so I’ll make reviewing this a priority.”
“Thank you,” Susanna said politely, but there was no missing that she wasn’t happy with this.
Figuring out ways to streamline costs was part of Susanna’s job. She’d done the research and wanted to act. Francesca understood, but that didn’t change the fact that she needed to consider the effects of those changes everywhere on the property and the way maintenance could support the services. She would need a little time and a few more brain cells than she had to spare right now to consider those effects.
To Susanna’s credit, she didn’t argue, but disapproval was obvious in her brisk motions as she collected her copies and tucked them neatly away.
In any other situation, Francesca wouldn’t be mentally rationalizing her decision. But Susanna Adams had once been Susanna Griffin and Karan Kowalski’s best friend. So instead of being two professionals who’d spent the past six months learning to work together for the benefit of Greywacke Lodge, Francesca and Susanna had been dancing around the past.
Francesca was all for letting bygones be bygones. She’d come back to Bluestone fully aware the past would have to be dealt with, and she worked hard to keep an open mind and let each day be a new day. A courtesy she hoped would come back to her in time. Truth was, she’d been very impressed with Susanna’s work. But the ugliness of long-ago just wouldn’t allow them to be normal around each other.
Shoulders back, chin up. Ever forward.
A heavy silence followed them to the door of the conference room, where they found a surprise awaiting them.
“Jack.” Susanna greeted the man in the reception area with genuine pleasure.
Jack turned at the sound of his name, that smile transforming his face, proving beyond any doubt that he cared very much for Francesca’s CFO. Susanna tossed her arms around his neck, and he gave her a good-natured squeeze.
He met Francesca’s gaze over Susanna’s head and nodded a greeting before asking Susanna, “How are the kids?”
“Hanging in there, thanks.” She stepped back and gave a shrug. “Brooke’s fifteen. What else can I say?”
His laugh was throaty and low. “What about you? Are you hanging in there?”
“Yeah.” Susanna rose up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And you’re a sweetheart for asking.”
Francesca guessed Jack referred to how Susanna was holding up after her husband’s death. According to her personnel file, he’d only died last year. Skip Adams had been another of the high school “in” crowd. A close friend of Jack’s, if memory served. And since their daughter was in the same grade as Gabrielle, they must have married around the same time Francesca had married Nicky.
“You wouldn’t even recognize the kids, Jack,” Susanna said.
“It’s been too long.”
“Always is.” She laughed. “No one sees you anymore. Not since you became chief.”
Francesca stood in the doorway to avoid intruding upon this blast from the past. Her high school years had been filled with similar meetings, and here she stood, many years later, still on the outside where she’d always been.
Feeling the same uncertainty. Feeling the same need to prove that being on the outside was infinitely better than being on the inside when watching Jack and Susanna really made her feel the urge to step back inside the conference room and close the door.
Francesca inhaled deeply, surprised and annoyed. She’d known what coming back to Bluestone would entail. But apparently knowing didn’t necessarily mean she’d be prepared.
She made a break for her office, but Jack’s smooth voice stopped her before she’d even reached the door.
“I was hoping for a few moments of your time, Ms. Raffa,” he said.
“Of course.” She didn’t turn around, not sure whether the heat currently suffusing her entire body was making her blush. “I’ll be in my office.”
She beat a hasty retreat to allow Jack and Susanna to finish up their visit, and closed her office door just as Susanna was promising to give Karan Jack’s regards.
Francesca hightailed it toward her desk and sank into her chair, fanning herself to disperse the effects of a hot flash that had zero to do with menopause. She was such an idiot. Why should she care that Jack hadn’t married Karan after all?
She didn’t. Not one way or the other. She’d decided after the divorce that she was putting the “woman” part of her life on hold until after Gabrielle went off to college. She had so little time—with her daughter, who was growing up so quickly, and with Nonna. Add to that her challenging new job, and there simply weren’t enough hours in the day.
Francesca was at peace with that decision. For the time being she was reveling in motherhood, making up for lost time as a granddaughter, too.
A sharp knock signaled the opening door, and Jack appeared.
“Hello again.” He motioned her to remain seated as he sank into a chair before her desk.
He raked his gaze over her, those black eyes taking in everything in a fast glance, and Francesca, idiot that she was, could suddenly feel the heat of the climate-controlled air through the sheer silk of her blouse.
“I received a message to pick up the Hickmans’ list.”
It took Francesca a moment to wrap her brain around that. “Their daughter mentioned she was coming by to help them get it together.”
He was so tall that she could still meet his gaze above the file folders that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her desk. Edging a pile to the side as nonchalantly as possible, she cleared space between them.
“So what else can I do for you today, Jack?” she asked.
“I’m wondering if you’re having the same problem I am.”
“What’s that?”
“Too much discussion about what happened to Hickman’s wallet.”
“One of the reasons for the meeting you caught me and Susanna leaving.” She gave a dismissive wave. “It’s not really surprising considering the collective nature of our community. Who’s talking on your end?”
“The friends and relatives of your residents. Any attempts at damage control?”
“I believe wholeheartedly that a strong offense is the best defense. We’ve been reassuring residents that we’re doing our part to protect their personal information and offering them tools to protect themselves.”
“Like what?”
She motioned to a folder on top of a stack. “We feature an ongoing lecture series here on Thursdays, so Rachel, my activities director, is putting together talks about today’s electronic climate. Tips to protect against credit card fraud and identify telephone hoaxes. Stuff like that. We’re hoping to get someone in to address phishing scams, too, since a surprising number of our residents are computer literate.” She paused and took a deep breath, not sure why she sounded so breathless. “She’s working with the Identity Theft Resource Center to schedule speakers who’ll gear topics toward seniors.”
“Excellent. I can put in a mention with our crime prevention task leader. He could get someone out here.”
“Wow. That would be great. I’ll tell Rachel. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now before I go see the Hickmans, I’m hoping to get your authorization for a walk-through of your common areas. I have a list of items and I’d like to see if any turn up around here. It would save me from going to a judge for a subpoena.”
Francesca frowned, concern finally managing to wipe away every shred of her ridiculous reaction to this man. “You promised I’d be the first to know if I needed to worry about my staff. Is it time to start?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. This is just a formality.”
“Then take your walk-through. Would you like an escort?”
“If you’ll do the honors.”
She was surprised when she really shouldn’t have been. Once charming Jack Sloan, always charming Jack Sloan. “Of course.”
She didn’t waste a second, but hopped up and led him from the office, eager to escape his dark gaze. Even if only for the time it took her to get to the door.
She didn’t make it. Jack stood and withdrew a long envelope from an inside jacket pocket.
“I understand you have a vault on the property.” He unfolded the papers and closed the distance between them. “Any possibility of finding out if any of these items are in it?”
Francesca stood her ground until he was close enough for her to read his list. And inhale his aftershave. The same fresh scent she’d noticed before. But the effect dispelled fast when she saw the items on his list. “Whoa.”
“Recognize anything?”
“Can’t say I’ve noticed the captain wearing a Rolex that cost more than my Jeep.” She took a discreet step back, found a few inches between her and this man made it easier to think.
“Jack, our residents don’t normally walk around wearing their Sunday best. I can check the log but anything more won’t be possible without a subpoena, I’m afraid.”
“Good enough.”
Francesca led Jack the short distance down the hall to the vault’s anteroom. He surveyed the small room, no bigger than a standard walk-in closet with the wall vault on the far end.
“Who has access?” he asked.
“Myself. My assistant director. Susanna. Head of Security. Human Resources. That’s it.”
“What about assistants? Do you or any of your managers ever authorize support staff to handle the deposits and withdrawals?”
“Only the paperwork. Otherwise, I’d have to turn over the key and security codes. The vault runs its own security log, so I can always check who accesses.”
Moving in front of the computer, she brought up the program and entered her password. “My staff is well-versed on the protocol, Jack. We can’t offer security if we’re not willing to provide it. And, honestly, it’s not as if overseeing this vault is a full-time job. It’s only a courtesy for residents who haven’t made personal arrangements for security in their own apartments.”
“Some of the residents have their own vaults?”
“All apartment designs offer the personal security feature. Some opt for it before they move in, but it’s available as an add-on afterward, as well.”
Jack nodded and held up the list for her to read. The program had a search function, where Francesca inputted brand names of watches and descriptions of various pieces of jewelry.
No matches.
“Doesn’t look like anyone has us hanging on to any six-carat pink diamonds, either,” she said to break the silence.
Jack looked amused but didn’t get a chance to reply before his cell phone vibrated audibly.
Glancing at the display, he smiled apologetically. “I need to take this.”
Francesca only nodded, relieved for a break from him standing on top of her.
Get a grip, Francesca! Back in high school, she’d prided herself on being different from the rest of the female student body who drooled every time Jack walked down the hall. She’d thought he was drop-dead gorgeous like the rest of them, true, but as far as she was concerned, something had to be wrong with any guy who dated Karan Kowalski.
Now she had to wonder. Even if she was interested in dating—which she was not at this time of her life, thank you very much—Jack was exactly the sort of man she’d vowed to steer clear of. A charmer. And after thirteen years of marriage to a man who could make the polar ice cap melt with one smile, Francesca could spot a charmer a mile away.
Forcing her fingers to fly, she typed descriptions into the search function even faster, racing against the clock—or his phone conversation as it was.
No matches.
She wanted out of this tiny room, where Jack seemed to steal all the air.
No matches.
Finally, she entered the last one…
“I’m sorry about that, Francesca,” Jack said, flipping his phone shut and stepping back into the room.
No matches.
She smiled and hit Print. “No apology necessary.”
“Any luck?”
“Depends on your interpretation of luck. No matches, so I’d say my luck is holding. Not sure about yours.” Still not meeting his gaze, she willed the printer to produce quickly, then whisked the report off the tray before the ink was dry. “So, where are we off to next?”
“Housekeeping.” He scanned the document, not appearing in any hurry to move his broad-shouldered self out of her way. “I need to know how you work things here. Do the same staff members regularly service apartments?”
“We assign certain groups to certain quadrants to keep traffic in and out of the apartments to a minimum. Doesn’t always work as we intend, but it’s a pretty solid system.”
“I need to talk to the folks who serviced the Hickmans’ apartment during this time frame.” He finally lifted his gaze from the report and reached into his pocket for another list, which he held out for her.
One quick glance at the list and she saw the possibility for escape. “Let’s go then.”
Jack stepped aside to allow her to precede him, and Francesca resisted the urge to bolt. Leading him down the hallway, she reached for the radio that was a permanent fixture at her waist. “Kath, is Emelina in the laundry today?”
“Yes, Ms. Raffa.”
“Thanks. On my way.” She ended the connection and found Jack staring down at her.
“Do you know where everyone works around here without looking at a roster?”
There was a compliment in there. She could hear it in his deep voice, knew it would be all over his smile if she looked at him. So she didn’t look. “I oversee the scheduling.”
“And have a photographic memory, it sounds like.”
She was saved from a reply when they reached the elevator and the doors slid wide to showcase Mrs. Talbot.
The woman wore a badge with the lodge logo and her name imprinted to provide easy identification for staff and residents. And visiting police chiefs.
“Good day, Mrs. Talbot,” Jack said.
She nodded politely before asking Francesca, “You’re coming for lunch today, aren’t you? It’s Tasty Thursday.”
Francesca glanced at her watch. “Fingers crossed. I can’t promise.”
“They’re featuring my squash casserole, so do your best.” Mrs. Talbot moved along with another polite nod to Minnie Moorehead, who shuffled up aided by an electric-blue walker.
Jack reached above Francesca’s head and held the elevator door.
“More like Tasteless Thursday,” Minnie said as she stepped inside.
Francesca followed, unable to hold back a laugh. “I don’t know about tasteless. Her four-bean salad was so good Chef Kevin added it to the menu.”
Minnie made a moue of distaste. “Gave me gas.”
Francesca wasn’t sure how to respond to that but enjoyed Jack’s surprised response. Nice to know the man could be taken off guard.