“I’m afraid this will alarm you,” Wukowski continued, “but I have to say it. The man we believe assaulted you is extremely dangerous. I caution you against returning home or going to the office until he’s in custody.” Wukowski tucked the recorder away. “Do you have somewhere else you can stay?”
“No.”
The response was brusque. I thought of Andrew’s assessment of her as a woman without friends or family, someone who was abrasive and pushed people away.
But Aunt Terry, bless her, had a solution. “Pasquale—my brother and Angie’s papa—has several spare bedrooms. I’ll stay at my brother’s home with you until you’re able to be on your own.”
“What will he think of that, Terry?” Franken asked.
“Don’t be concerned about the arrangements. Pasquale–the Italian form of Patrick—will be happy to host us. He has no use for men who abuse women or children. We’ll be safe as can be with him.”
Wukowski interrupted her. “Let’s keep your brother’s… connections out of this, Terry. No need to raise the department’s hackles.”
Absolutely no need, I thought. “I’d prefer Spider’s men for your personal protection,” I said.
“Spider?” Franken asked.
“It’s a nickname. He’s the best man for this job, Rebecca. Trust me.” I gave Wukowski a long look. “Agreed?”
“Yeah,” he said, “agreed.”
That was too easy, I thought as Aunt Terry resumed her plan. “Now, Ted, I know you’re worrying that someone might be watching to see when Rebecca leaves Saint Mary’s. I have the perfect solution.”
“I’m waiting,” he said, his shoulders set in an attitude of opposition.
“I’m here very regularly, so there’s no reason to associate me with Rebecca. When it’s time for her to leave, I’ll pull my van around to the dock and the staff can help me settle her in back, out of sight.” She turned to Franken. “You’ll need clothes and other things from home.”
“I’ll send a couple of uniforms to the house,” Wukowski cut in, “in case the perp’s waiting there for any reason. Unlikely, since he got the information he was after, but we won’t take chances.”
“Do you want anything in particular, beside clothes and toiletries? What about medications?” I asked. “Laptop? Cell phone? Books? Knitting or other things you enjoy?”
The paramedics had transported her purse, with her phone, the prior night. While I input her needs to my notes app, Aunt Terry rose.
“That’s settled then. Let me go talk to the doctor about your discharge, Rebecca.” She bustled out.
“My,” Franken said, “she’s a force of nature, isn’t she?”
“Always has been. It’s probably a survival mechanism from helping raise me.”
The sides of Franken’s mouth rose slightly. I imagined that a real smile caused pain.
“I can’t thank you two enough,” she said.
“We’re glad to help,” I assured her.
Rebecca Franken was a woman alone in the world, without even a close friend who cared that danger had touched her life. I said a silent thank-you for all the people who loved and wanted to protect me—even Mr. Grumpy Wukowski.
Chapter 26
Distrust and caution are the parents of security.
Benjamin Franklin
Opansky had resumed her place outside Franken’s room. “No one except medical personnel goes in,” Wukowski told her. “And don’t take hospital gear for granted. Check every ID. If they discharge her today, let me know. You’ll be relieved at three.”
“Yessir,” she said.
I almost expected a salute. Wukowski can have that effect on people.
As we strolled to the elevators, he asked, “Got time for lunch? We need to talk, but I’m tired and hungry, and you know that’s a collision waiting to happen.”
“Sounds great. But first, let me text Spider and have him set up protection details for Rebecca and Debby.”
“I called him after I read the police report on Franken,” he said. “Figured he could handle the job a lot more, shall we say, efficiently than we could.”
Did that mean he thought this needed—I sought for the term he used about Spider’s database access—extralegal action? “Ma’s?” I asked him, mentally picturing a big brunch of eggs, crisp sausage, home fries, and sourdough toast with apple butter. And coffee. Lots of coffee.
“Sounds great.” He placed a careful kiss on my cheek. “Let’s drive separately. We’ve both got too much going on to ferry each other back and forth.”
***
Ma Fischer’s owner, George, greeted us at the desk with a huge smile. “Angie, Detective, you are together again. I begin to worry.”
“All’s well, George,” Wukowski told him.
“Is good, is very good.” He directed us to a table in a quiet corner. “No need to worry about a fight, eh?” he teased us, referring to the Morano case and our rather heated discussion over Wukowski’s attitude toward my qualifications as a PI.
“No fights today,” I said, “but keep an eye on this guy, would you? We’re not in total agreement on the current case.” I gave Wukowski a sly grin, daring him to start something.
We sat and George handed us menus. With a finger waggle, he said, “You must be patient, Detective. You are the man and must control yourself when the woman provokes, no?”
Wukowski nodded. “Too true, George. About the provocation, that is.”
After a server arrived to take our orders, Wukowski said, “Angie, this case is turning into a nightmare. I worry about your safety”—he raised a finger—“even more than usual, moja droga. If Artur, or whoever the perp is, got a copy of the will from Franken’s computer, you and Hill are in his crosshairs. Spider will see to Debby. I think I should stay with you until this is over.”
“I’d be more than thrilled with a sleepover, caro, but I’d prefer you weren’t on duty when that happens.” He started to protest, but I added, “I’ll call Spider. He can keep me safe and keep the MPD off your back for the next few days. After all, Franken staying at Papa’s means there’s Family involvement.”
“Yeah, the brass won’t like that one bit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, text Spider and let him know. I'll be uneasy leaving you unless you’re under close protection.”
I did as he wanted, asking
