Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation by Alice Loweecey Page B

the receiver. “Frank here, Blake. What can I—”
    Giulia watched his face take on that soothing look he’d used on Blake in the office three days earlier.
    “In her mailbox? What was it dressed like?... I see. You too?... Oh. Of course... No, no, I’ll come by and pick them up. Can Ms. van Alstyne bring hers to your condo today?... Yes, with the camera. I’ll be there after seven... We’ll discuss it then. Right.”
    He set the receiver into its cradle and fell into his chair. “He got a Ken doll in a bridegroom outfit, complete with two wedding rings. She got her own Barbie. No handcuffs. I didn’t get exact details of the outfit, or lack thereof. The Perfect Fiancée apparently indulged in some shrillness.” He dropped his head into his hands. “If this weren’t so important, it’d be funny. Those two are utterly unprepared for this kind of love/hate intensity.”
    Giulia snapped her fingers. “Frank, the doll distracted us. Where’s the note?” She turned over the lid. “Nothing in here. Can I pick her up?”
    “Go ahead. I don’t need more fingerprints. Did I tell you I sent the ones we got to a friend in D.C. to check?”
    “Why not here?”
    “Because Blake doesn’t want police involvement yet, remember? My D.C. friend owes me a favor, so he’s running the check on the QT.”
    The note lay beneath the doll.
    “ ‘Woe to you who are clever in your own sight. At every street you degrade your beauty, offering your body with increasing promiscuity to anyone who passes by.’ ” Giulia dropped the note like it singed her hand. “This is not in the Bible. Not like this. She’s corrupting the text to suit her own hate.”
    Frank whistled. “I can just imagine what Pamela’s said. No wonder she had hysterics... wait a minute.” He searched his center drawer. “According to Blake, they found their dolls about half an hour apart. He gave me the time stamps from the cameras.”
    “Cameras. Rats. I forgot to tell you. Mingmei said a tall, rich-looking blonde stopped in there and asked about us.”
    “Us? You and me?”
    “No. Sorry. About Driscoll Investigations. If only they used a security camera downstairs.”
    “When? What did she say? What did she look like?” Frank found a piece of paper and wrote several bullet points.
    “Before we opened. According to Mingmei’s description, she could only have been one of the exes. She was tall and blonde, and wore expensive clothes.” Giulia stared at the Barbie. “She gave Mingmei a story about needing a background check on a personal assistant.”
    “Flimsy excuse. Did she think we wouldn’t hear about it?” He wrote. “No, of course not. She let us know that she’s on to us.”
    “Our plastic friend here told us that.”
    Frank jumped up. “You’re right. What if she tried to jimmy the lock?” He threw open his door and strode to the main door.
    “Mr. Driscoll? Is something wrong?” Sidney half-rose.
    Giulia squatted beside Frank. “No, Sidney, nothing’s wrong yet. Anything, Frank?”
    Frank ran his fingers over the strike plate. “Can’t see any scratches. Can’t feel any, either. No wax residue, so she didn’t try to make an impression of the keyhole.” He stood, stumbling on his right leg.
    Giulia put her hands on his arms. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah, it’s nothing. Ever since they put pins and screws into my leg, I have trouble getting up from that position.”
    “Were you in an accident, Mr. Driscoll?” Sidney sank into her chair.
    “Back when I was a cop.” Frank rubbed his kneecap. “We were on a high-speed chase. Someone ignored the siren and plowed into our passenger side—and me—at an intersection.”
    “Ooh.” Sidney cringed.
    “Three months and two surgeries later, my choice was desk job or new career.” He grinned at Sidney. “Now instead of a precinct that has ten men to every woman, I have a matched set of lovely servants.”
    Giulia and Sidney burst into speech at the same moment.
    “Frank,