The Calamity Janes: Gina and Emma: To Catch a Thief

“Good morning, Mother. How lovely to hear your voice,” he muttered, knowing the sarcasm would go straight over her head. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you are not keeping me informed. Am I or am I not your client?”

“You’re one of them,” he agreed, glancing at the clock and groaning when he realized it was barely 6:00 a.m. He and Gina had stayed out late the night before, doing absolutely none of the things he’d wanted most to do, which was probably why his dreams had been particularly steamy.

“The most important one, I should think,” she grumbled.

“Actually you’re the only one who’s not paying me,” he pointed out. “I took on your case pro bono, if you recall.”

“I still think I should be getting an update from time to time. Have you found Bobby? Will I be getting my money back?”

“I haven’t found Bobby. As for your money, we’ll know more about that once I find out where he’s gone.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, why on earth are you vacationing in Wyoming, of all places?”

Rafe gritted his teeth. “I am not on vacation. I’m following a lead.”

“Don’t you have investigators to do that?”

“Sure I do. They cost quite a bit. Shall I put their expenses on your bill?”

Adele O’Donnell Tinsley Warwick sucked in her breath. “There’s no need to be snide, Rafe.”

“I’m sorry,” Rafe apologized automatically. “Since I have you on the line, let me ask you again if Bobby ever said anything at all about any place he particularly liked, some country or city he might be holed up in now? Is he the kind who’d hide all his ill-gotten gains in a Swiss bank account, or would he head for the Cayman Islands?”

“Neither. When he was with me, he seemed quite content to be in New York. From my point of view, none of this makes any sense. I thought he was happy. I thought we were happy. We were together for five years. Well, most of five years. There was that period when I thought I might be in love with Mitchell Davis, but he turned out to still have a wife tucked away upstate.”

“Yes, I recall,” Rafe said wearily. Obviously, his mother made a habit of deluding herself about the importance of a relationship. He sighed, then asked, “What do you know about Rinaldi’s business partner?”

“Gina? He rarely mentioned her,” she said dismissively. “I got the sense that she was contributing very little to the business, other than a certain flair she had with the customers and preparation of some of the dishes on the menu. Bobby was the money man and the brains behind the place. I always had the feeling she was holding him back, that her thinking was far too conservative.”

“Perhaps she had good reason for being that way, since Rinaldi was so irresponsible where money was concerned,” he suggested.

“Bobby was a genius,” she said at once.

His mother’s criticism of Gina and her admiring tone when she spoke of Rinaldi, even after everything the man had done to her, made Rafe cringe. “Mother, are you anxious for me to find Rinaldi so we can put him behind bars, or are you hoping to resume your affair with him?”

“How can you even ask me such a thing?” she asked indignantly.

“Because I honestly want to know the answer,” he said. “I get this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that you want the man back, even after everything he’s done.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He cheated me out of thousands of dollars. I wouldn’t take him back if he begged me to.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rafe said, though he wasn’t entirely certain he believed her.

“Now, tell me again why you’re in Wyoming. Bobby certainly wouldn’t go there. He hated anything primitive.”

“They do have hot and cold running water here, Mother.”

“You know what I mean. He was a sophisticated man.” She paused, then added thoughtfully, “But that little partner of his wasn’t. Is that it? Is Gina in Wyoming? Is she hiding out there?”

“Gina is not ‘hiding out,’ and she’s every bit as sophisticated as you or I,” Rafe said impatiently, aware the moment the words left his mouth that his mother would seize on them.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “She is there. You’re not being taken in by her, are you?”

“No more than you were by Rinaldi,” he said dryly.

“Rafe, darling, do be careful,” she said with a rare display of motherly concern.

“Believe me, Mother, in my profession, there are very few people I trust. And after growing up with your unpredictable serial marriages, there are even fewer women I trust.”

“Well, that’s okay, then,” she said, sounding pleased. Clearly she’d missed the barb directed at her role in his distrust. Rafe sighed at the realization that she was as self-absorbed as ever.

Only after he’d hung up did Rafe realize exactly how pitiful his words were and how very badly he wanted Gina Petrillo to be the person who broke the pattern.

* * *

“Gina, sweetie, the phone’s for you,” Gina’s mother called cheerfully after a tap on the bedroom door.

Gina groaned and rolled over, burying her head under the pillow. She had tossed and turned all night long, trying to escape the dream in which she was running endlessly after a shadow. Bobby’s, no doubt. Not even her subconscious would let her catch him, because apparently on some innate level she knew that killing him was a bad idea.

“Gina, are you awake?” her mother called.

“Yes,” she finally admitted. “I’ll be right there.”

For one fleeting second she allowed herself to anticipate hearing Rafe’s voice on the other end of the line. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her guard up around him. Nor was she having much luck with keeping her hormones in check. Dragging on her robe, she picked up her pace as she went into the hallway to grab the nearest phone.

“Hello, doll,” Bobby greeted her as if they’d parted only days before and on the very best of terms.

“Roberto Rinaldi, where the hell are you?” she demanded, shaking with indignation. “Do you have any idea what sort of a mess you’ve left behind for me to clean up? I have an attorney shadowing my every move. I believe you know his mother.”

“Not Rafe O’Donnell.”

“Bingo.”

“Sorry about that. Not to worry, though. I’ll get everything straightened out.”

“How? When?”

“Soon,” he assured her. “Gotta run, doll. I just wanted you to know to hang in there.”

“Bobby, don’t you dare hang up on me. Bobby! Dammit, Bobby!” She realized she was shouting at a dial tone and all but slammed the receiver back into the cradle. “Forget the consequences. If I ever get my hands on him, I’m going to kill him.”

She looked up and realized that her mother was studying her with a horrified expression.

“Into the kitchen,” her mother said quietly, but in a tone that had always meant business. “I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on.”

Gina sighed and reluctantly trailed along behind her. She paused only long enough to pour herself a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table. “Where’s Dad?”