Dog Collar Cuisine (A Lucie Rizzo Mystery Book 5) Read online

From what Lucie had heard, these two had broken up and gotten back together enough to warrant mention on the local talk shows whenever it happened.

  Having experienced the roller-coaster ride of breakups with her ex, Frankie, Lucie sympathized with the couple. Relationships were hard enough without the pressure of being a local celebrity. A handsome one to boot.

  Thanks to Tim “O’Hottie” O’Brien, Lucie had left relationship drama behind. With Tim, she enjoyed plenty of laughter, good conversation, and a man who supported her without question. Where the relationship would go, she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t like to get too far ahead, but they’d exchanged the all-important I-love-yous and she kept a toothbrush at his house. Something Ro felt was akin to an on-the-horizon engagement ring.

  Ro, though, was a little nuts and didn’t have the greatest track record with men.

  “Hi, Molly.”

  “Hi, Lucie. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks. Just bringing Brie home.”

  “Hi, Lucie,” Antoine called.

  “Hi, Lucie,” another female voice carried into the hallway.

  Lucie poked her head in the doorway and waved at Molly’s assistant, Annalise, and Antoine, who sat with Brie snuggled on his lap. Tiny Brie created an interesting contrast to Antoine’s wide-shouldered, dark-featured intensity. The carved cheekbones didn’t hurt his roguishly sexy looks.

  Annalise returned the wave. “I’m glad you’re here. Our apologies about that missing invoice. Something went fluky at the accountant’s office.”

  As part of their management service, Molly and Annalise handled all invoices for Antoine. When the last Coco Barknell payment hadn’t arrived within thirty days, Lucie turned leg-breaker and called Annalise.

  “It’s not a problem. I assumed something went wacky.”

  Antoine sat at his desk, an oversized cherry deal with stacks of folders and papers strewn across the top. Two leather club chairs offered guest seating. Behind him was one of those giant safes that weighed more than an elephant. The safe door sat open, and Lucie pulled her gaze from it before Antoine thought her nosey.

  “Thanks for handling that, Anna.” Antoine turned to Lucie. “I thought Lauren would be here today.”

  Lucie handed him the leash, and he hung it on the hook behind his desk.

  “She ran into a scheduling problem.” Liar, liar. “I told her I’d handle Brie. And, by the way, she just peed on a woman out front.”

  Antoine fought a smile and nuzzled Brie. “Bad girl.”

  “Oh, Antoine,” Molly said. “She’s such a brat. This better not create one of those pain-in-the-ass frivolous lawsuits.”

  Lucie held up the business card the pee victim had given her. “Luckily, the woman is a groomer. She owns the shop down the street. She asked me to pass this along. I think she fell a little bit in love with your baby.”

  Antoine took the card and read it. “I guess since Brie defiled her, I should send her over for a bath.” He lifted Brie and nuzzled her again. “Although Mr. Markus might be offended if I let someone else deal with that beard.”

  Annalise held out her hand. “Would you like me to make the appointment?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks, Anna. And let’s send her a casserole. Sucking up never hurts.”

  He set the dog back on his lap and looked at Lucie. “If you’re hungry, stop in the kitchen and grab something.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks. If you have any of the casseroles made, I might grab one on my way out. My boyfriend is addicted.”

  “Good to hear. Keeps a roof over my head.”

  The simple recipe with beans, pork and sausage—Cassoulet de Toulouse, as the French called it—did more than keep a roof over Chef’s head. After years of experimenting with his favorite recipe, he’d hit on a variation of ingredients that created a truly exceptional dish.

  Now, three years later, in a flash of brilliance, he’d franchised the recipe, allowing other restaurants to pay for use of it. Only no one entity received the full ingredient list. From what Lucie knew, three food processing plants each received a list of herbs and spices they mixed and packaged. Then all three shipped the ingredients to customers, who mixed them and added the meat, beans, and breadcrumbs.

  All of this wizardry made Antoine the most eligible billionaire in Chicago. Maybe the entire country.

  Molly boosted off the doorframe and walked to Antoine. When she reached him, she pecked him on the lips. “Gotta go, doll. Call us if you have questions on those contracts.”

  Molly and Anna exited, but Lucie hovered in front of Antoine’s desk. He continued to stroke Brie’s back.

  “Lucie, you look like you have something on your mind.”

  Ah, the perfect transition. “Actually, I do. Forgive me if this is too forward, but could I ask you something?”

  His eyebrows hitched up. Whoopsie. Best to clarify. She held up her hands. “A business question.”

  He nudged his chin at the giant blue binder in front of him. “Of course. I’m working on payroll. I’ll take any distraction.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ve been approached by an acquaintance with a business opportunity for Coco Barknell.”

  “Ah, my favorite thing.”

  He swiveled on his chair, set Brie on the faux fur doggie bed next to the floor safe.

  “Take a nap,” he said before turning back to Lucie. “I’m all yours. Tell me about this business opportunity. You’re hesitant?”

  “Actually, no. I’m the reverse. My partner is hesitant. It’s a dog food line and Ro feels it’s out of our wheelhouse.”

  “A dog food line. Interesting.”

  “Oh, it’s more than that. It’s…well…different.”

  “Different how?”

  No matter how much she trusted Antoine, giving him the details of Jo-Jo’s Pride without a confidentiality agreement in place was bad business. Bad business that shrewd women didn’t partake in. Particularly when solid ideas could be swiped by seemingly trustworthy acquaintances.

  “I’d love to tell you about it, obviously. But I’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement.” She dug into her messenger bag for the blank agreement she’d brought with her. Just in case. No one would ever accuse her of not being prepared. “I was hoping you’d be willing to speak to me, so I brought a NDA with me.”

  He waggled a hand, took the document, perused and signed it. No muss, no fuss. Excellent.

  She stowed it in her bag and prepared for take two of Land This Investor. “The dog food. It’s basically a mix and match thing. Customers go to the website and choose beef, pork, chicken or lamb. Or, and this is what I love, the different proteins can be mixed. Maybe pork and chicken for one meal and then the next beef and lamb. Whatever. The customer creates them, my client mixes the meals and delivers them.”

  “She’s local then?”

  “Yes. And she only delivers within a thirty-mile radius. She needs a better infrastructure for ordering. If I can get her some capital, we can expand, expand, expand. The food plants she works with now are too small to handle anything more.”

  Antoine nodded. “And the big guys won’t touch her. I went through this with the casserole spices.”

  “Exactly.”

  He kicked back in his chair, propped his feet on the desk, and stacked his hands on his midsection. The king relaxing on his throne. “What kind of numbers is this business pulling?”

  “She’s been operating eighteen months and has $99,500 in revenue.”

  Chef’s bottom lip rolled out. “That’s not bad. You’re looking for an investor then?”

  “To do what I think the business needs, yes. I don’t have that kind of capital and to compete in an already crowded market, she’ll need to expand the food choices and ship nationwide. I have contacts from my banking days, but I’m wondering, based on your experience with food manufacturers, if you thought this would be a viable business. Is a successful expansion even possible?”

  He tilted his head one way, then the ot
her. “If you can get the ordering system in place and the processing plants on board, it sounds solid. And it’s different. You have a business plan?”

  “Not yet. I’ll write one up.” She smiled. “This is my feeling-it-out phase.”

  “Well, it’s intriguing. At least to me. Would you be open to making me a partner?”

  Cha. Ching! A partner. Walking in here, she’d intended only to ask his advice, but smart girls always left options open. In the back of her mind she’d hoped he—and his billionaire bank account—might have an interest in seeing his name on a dog food container. “Really?”

  His Hotness gifted her with a crooked smile that sharpened the angles of his face. “You may have noticed, I’m famous. With that comes responsibility. I choose my endorsement deals carefully. I’m building a brand and won’t slap my name on inferior products. Anything with food has to be quality. If you’ll allow me to work with the plants on quality control, I’ll throw in the capital and let you put my name on it.”

  “In exchange for what percentage?”

  He smiled again. Nice try pal. Underneath her jeans and puffy coat was a killer. A financial shark. If he thought that smile would charm her into giving away money, he didn’t know Joe Rizzo’s kid at all.

  “Sixty percent,” he said. “And that’s assuming you and this other partner will run everything and not take a salary until we’re profitable.”

  She’d expected the no-salary demand and the higher percentage. Venture capital deals tended to carry those. Plus, he’d be throwing his name—and the marketing benefits of said name—on the product.

  Still, sixty percent? Lucie let out a low whistle. “Can’t do it. We’re already bringing a following and, as you said, it’s different. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill dog food. Forty-nine percent.”

  “Fifty-five.”

  “That gives you controlling interest. Jo-Jo won’t go for that. And if I’m bringing this under the Coco Barknell umbrella, I’m not going for it either. How about fifty percent? That’ll make you an equal partner.”

  Shouts sounded from below. Antoine cocked his head toward the door. A second later, a loud, blaring alarm went off.

  “Chef!” Someone yelled from downstairs. “Fire!”

  Brie let out three fast barks. Antoine hopped from his chair and peered down at her. “Shit.”

  “Go,” Lucie said. “I’ll get Brie.”

  Chapter Two

  Lucie cornered the desk, already reaching for the hook holding Brie’s leash. Of all the ways to die, a fire would be one of the worst. Too unpredictable. And deadly. One second you had a candle lit and the next, the whole place was up in flames. Flames that stole precious oxygen.

  Already the smell of smoke drifted upstairs.

  Hurry.

  Her pulse slammed as she snapped the leash on Brie, who let out three yips. Dogs were smart that way. They sensed danger. The best Lucie could do was keep her own emotions under control and not send the pup into a panic.

  “I know, girl. We’ll be fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

  She scooped her up and made her way to the top of the stairwell. A blast of heat roared upward. At the bottom, the kitchen staff rushed out, each of them pushing at the person in front, urging them to move faster.

  “Move,” one man said, “before it spreads and we’re all toast.”

  Brie yipped again, drawing the attention of one of the servers.

  “No!” The guy said. “Take her out the back. If they don’t get the fire out fast, the whole place will be engulfed.”

  Again, Brie yipped, her tiny body shivering.

  Lucie swung around, staring straight down the hallway to the back door. By the time she got there, she could be down these steps and out.

  “Close that door,” someone yelled from below.

  The server, now almost to the exit, turned back and…froze. “Holy shit,” he said.

  Lucie saw it, the flick of bright orange that shot around the doorframe then retreated. Flick, retreat, flick, retreat.

  Flames.

  Right there.

  Get out.

  Forget not panicking. A rush of energy consumed her. Made her skin tingle. She spun, charged down the hall, her feet heavy on the hardwood. Brie shivered and yipped again and Lucie forced a cooing noise, but Brie wasn’t having it. She let out another yip, her tiny paws scrabbling for purchase in Lucie’s arms.

  “It’s okay, girl. We’re fine. Just need to get you out the other door.”

  They passed Antoine’s office, reaching the small galley kitchen and the door that led to the fire escape.

  “Lucie!”

  Antoine’s voice. From below.

  “We’re going out the back. I’ve got her. We’ll meet you out front.”

  Lucie reached down, gripped the doorknob.

  Locked. She lifted her hand, now trembling from the adrenaline overload and…oh no. A double-key lock.

  Trapped.

  Before today, she’d considered a key to unlock the door from either side pure genius. Excellent safety measure.

  Except during a fire.

  “Antoine,” she screamed, sending Brie into another yip-fest. “Where’s the key?”

  No answer from Antoine.

  Lucie scanned the countertops. No keys. The walls. Nothing. “I’m going to fry in this place.”

  No sir. Not happening.

  Think.

  A small squeak left her throat and Brie’s paws got active again, the dog struggling to break free.

  Don’t panic. “Easy, girl. We’re okay.”

  Hanging on to Brie with one arm, Lucie went to work flinging open the few cabinets. No keys. She inhaled, felt the burn of smoke in her throat.

  It’s coming.

  Drawers. She yanked on them. Nothing. Cabinet below the sink. Only place left. She whipped open the door and…there! Hanging on a small hook on the inside of the door. A key.

  Ripping it off the hook, she fumbled it, trying to right it with her free hand. Between rushing and her trembling fingers…whoopsie…she dropped it.

  “Damn it.”

  She set Brie down and concentrated on swiping the key off the floor. Her first attempt at sliding it into the lock failed. Of course. She steadied herself, breathed deep, and tried again.

  Another burst of energy erupted, this one a surge of relief that settled her hammering pulse.

  She yanked open the door, welcoming the chill of winter and the fresh air that came with it. Bending low, she scooped up Brie. “We’ve got this, girlfriend. Let’s get out of here.”

  Three fire extinguishers and the built-in kitchen sprinklers did part of the job. The fire department did the rest. At least that’s what Lucie had heard from some of the kitchen staff milling about with her.

  She stood out of the way on the opposite corner while the firefighters dealt with the aftermath and made sure no secondary fires erupted. Brie played at her feet, happily flirting with passersby

  A dog’s life. So simple.

  Across the street, Antoine talked with a cop, gesturing with his hands and looking around. He spotted her, waved, and in the distance, she saw it. The collapse of his shoulders as relief took hold. He finished with the cop and dodged traffic, totally jaywalking. Right in front of Chicago’s finest. If she’d done that, they’d lock her up for ten years. But that’s how her luck ran.

  The light turned red and Antoine scooted around a car, earning himself a flip of the bird. At which point he returned the gesture, his passion obvious when he added the other hand. The dreaded double flip.

  He shoved his hands through his dark hair, pushing it away from his face before he scooped up Brie for a nuzzle. “Lucie, thank you for staying with her. I’ll pay you for the time.”

  “No problem. You don’t have to pay me. I was glad to help. Besides, I ate up some of your time asking advice, so we’re even. How’s the kitchen?”

  He glanced back at the building, his eyes more than a little sad. “The fire is ou
t, but it’s a mess. I need to get a contractor in there and figure out how long we’ll be shut down.”

  “What happened?”

  “Grease fire. It spread so fast, by the time we got to the extinguishers half the kitchen was engulfed.”

  As if sensing his heartache, Brie craned her neck and licked Antoine’s chin. “Thank you, baby,” he said.

  Lucie glanced back at the building, imagining the revenue loss, and hoped he had good insurance.

  “Thanks again, Lucie. I should get back over there.”

  “Of course. Are you sure you want to take Brie? I’m heading home, but I could take her with me and when you’re wrapped up here, you can come get her. Or I can have my boyfriend bring her back tonight when he goes home. Either way.”

  Antoine looked over at the restaurant again, twisted his lips one way then the other. “She really shouldn’t be in that building right now. Would you mind?”

  If it kept the dog safe, she’d do it. Sweet girl could step on debris or suffer smoke inhalation. Plus, if Lucie’s help got him to invest in the dog food venture, she’d consider it a bonus. Did that make her a horrible person? Probably. But a girl had to make a living.

  “Not at all. She’s good company.”

  Lucie held her hands out. “Come on, you little bugger. Let’s go see what the lunatics at Villa Rizzo are doing.”

  At 6:05, Lucie rushed through the front door of Villa Rizzo with Brie happily yipping at her feet. Leave it to a dog to think it was all fun and games.

  Beyond the living room, her family cluttered around the dining table. Joey sat in his usual spot at the end with Ro to his right next to Mom. Tim, patient and hopefully understanding, occupied the adjacent seat.

  Lucie shut the door, tripped over the dog, and fell ass over elbow. Oh, no. On her way to the floor, she cruised by the bannister and made a useless attempt to grab hold. Missed. Dang it. She landed on her butt, the pain radiating straight up her spine.

  “Ow! Shit.”

  “Language,” Mom said from the table.

  Brie, assuming it was play time, pounced, giving Lucie a massive face lick.

  Dear God. What an entrance. “Off, Brie. Off!”