“I don’t know who did this, or why, but I have a few ideas.” She was thinking out loud, trying to sort out what had happened. “It seems to me that I’m sort of the target of this break-in, since mine was the only office ransacked, and apparently my case file and laptop were the only things they took. I was the only one using the conference room, too, and it was my sign that was on the door.”
“Correction.” Officer Rafter raised his pen. “The receptionist’s desk was ransacked, too, and petty cash was stolen.”
“Okay, right.” Mary reminded herself not to jump to conclusions, but it was so hard and she was Italian. “At first I thought the guy who did it might be Premenstrual Tom, who’s been calling the office.”
“Who?” Officer Rafter stopped her with a half-smile, and Paul arched a professorial eyebrow, leaning against the side wall with his arms folded. Mary didn’t think she’d be seeing him again. First dates were not improved by major felonies. If she wanted to see Paul again, she’d have to serve a subpoena.
“The man’s name is Tom Cott. He’s a psychotic who threatened to kill me the other night.”
“Threatened to kill you?” Officer Rafter repeated in disbelief, and Mary noticed Paul’s eyes widen behind his glasses. Okay, they are blue. Incredulous blue.
“We’re in the process of getting a TRO against him,” Judy interjected, her usually carefree face showing signs of strain. She had rushed to the office as soon as Mary had called, wearing an Old Navy sweatshirt and threadbare jeans. They had called Bennie’s cell phone together and left her a message. “But frankly, I’m not sure it’s Premenstrual Tom at all. He threatened Mary, but this break-in took planning, especially since the new security guard appears to be in on it. Also we can’t explain why Premenstrual Tom would go after the Brandolini file.”
“I agree, it’s not likely that it’s him,” Mary told the cop.
“Plus, lots of premenstrual men hate us,” Judy added.
“I see.” Rafter made a note on his pad, and Mary was dying to know what it said. THESE BROADS ARE NUTS.
“Lately,” Mary continued, “I’ve noticed that a black Escalade has been around me, sort of following me. First it was on my parents’ street when I went over for dinner, and then I saw it outside my house. I don’t know if it’s connected to this, but it may be.”
“Are you serious?” Officer Rafter frowned under the shiny patent bill of his cap. “Did you get a look at the driver, either time?”
“The first time, I did. He was a burly guy with zits.”
“What race, how old, wearing what?”
“He was white, wearing a black shirt, about thirty years old, maybe thirty-five. He was big and thick, like a linebacker. I don’t remember much else.”
Officer Rafter nodded. “What about the second time? Same guy?”
“I didn’t see him, but the Escalade was parked outside of my house.”
“Did you get a license plate, either time?”
“No.”
“So you don’t know for a fact that it was the same Escalade.”
“They were both black, and I heard that a big guy with zits went to visit the house of the guy the file’s about, Amadeo Brandolini.”
“Can you slow down a minute?” Rafter asked, writing on his pad.
“Sure. I’m thinking that this break-in tonight has to do with a case I’m working on, about a man named Amadeo Brandolini. That’s the file that was taken, and I haven’t double-checked, but as far as I can tell, his is the only file that was taken. There was even a reporter here today, Jim MacIntire, asking about Amadeo.” Mary met Judy’s eye and she sensed their collective imagination was running wild. Did that reporter have anything to do with this? Mary resolved to call Skinny Uncle Joey and see if Mac was legit.
But Officer Rafter, who didn’t read minds, looked at her with concern. “Ms. DiNunzio, if you truly have reason to believe you’re being followed, I can’t deal with that here. You need to come down to the precinct house and make a report. There are stalking laws on the books.”
“Maybe I will,” Mary said, but she had been through that before and knew it would be USELESS.
“Now, you told me there was usually about a hundred dollars in petty cash. What was the value of your laptop?”
“The office paid two grand for it three years ago, which means it’s worth thirty-five dollars today.” Mary managed a smile. “It’s what’s in it that had value to me, the work I did on the case.”
“What was the value of the case file that was stolen?” Officer Rafter asked, his pen poised over the white pad.
“I thought it was priceless. It contained a wallet and original photos and drawings.”
“How much money was in the wallet?”
“None.”
Officer Rafter made a note. “You said something about drawings. What were the drawings of? Were they, like, art?”
“No.” Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. Besides her and Judy, the only people who had seen the drawings, or even knew they existed, were Frank Cavuto and Mac the reporter. She made a mental note.
“Now, was this client, Mr. Brandolini, an artist or something?”
“No.”
“Then his drawings didn’t have any value.”
“I guess not.” It was hard for Mary to concede.
“How about the photos?’
“No. Family photos.”
Officer Rafter flipped the pad closed. “All right, well, that about covers it. We’ll follow up on the security guard issue and we’ll be canvassing the block for witnesses. We’ll search Dumpsters in the neighborhood and let you know what turns up, if anything.”
“Can’t I do anything? I really want that file back.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I gotta tell you, I’m not overly optimistic. The only thing a witness would see is somebody walking around with an accordion file and a laptop, in the business district. It’s not like they’re running down Walnut with a boosted plasma screen.”
“I understand,” Mary said, disappointed just the same.
“However, if I were you, Ms. DiNunzio, I’d get myself a TRO and file a report about this fellow, then think seriously about taking a vacation.”
Mary snorted. “A vacation? The last thing I want to do is take a vacation. This case is heating up, big-time.”
“It would be good to make yourself scarce, right about now. Get out of town for a while. I know that’s not the party line, but I like to be practical. If someone’s harassing you, go away.” Officer Rafter slipped the pad into his back pocket and returned the pen to his breast pocket. “I’m finished, and you’re all free to go. I’ll join my partner downstairs.”
“Great, thanks,” Mary said, and Judy thanked him, too.
“Let me know if you discover that anything else has been taken.” Officer Rafter moved toward the elevator door. “My partner inventoried everything on the walk-through, but you never know.”
“Sure, thanks again for coming.”
“You’re welcome.” The cop grabbed the elevator, and when the doors slid closed, Mary met Paul’s eye with a final sigh.
“Well, professor,” she said. “I guess we’d better get you out of here. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
“It was interesting,” Paul answered, with a smile. He unfolded his arms and turned to Judy. “You told me she was…different.”
Judy laughed. “You academics gotta shake it up once in a while.”
“True.” Paul smiled and turned back to Mary. “But we never did have dinner. Can I get a rain check?”
Mary blushed, surprised. “Sure.”
“Okay, then. I do have an early class in the morning. Quantum mechanics.”
“Yikes. Can’t be sleepy for whatever that is.”
“See ya, Paul.” Judy gestured to Mary. “Walk him to the elevator, girl. It’s the least you can do.”
“Of course,” Mary said, but she wasn’t counting on that good-night kiss. She didn’t even want one. Nothing like a B amp; E to kill the mood. She was just about to walk him out when the phone rang from beneath the mess in the reception area, and Mary turned on her heel. She looked at Judy. Judy looked at her. They both knew who was calling. Things were about to go from bad to worse.