Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) by Traci Andrighetti Page A
Authors: Traci Andrighetti
Ads: Link
loves that dog , I thought as I listened to the phone ring.
" Allo , Franki?" Corinne asked in an anxious tone.
" Yes, I'm at the park at Jackson Square," I said, my voice lowered to a whisper. "There's a little white dog here that could be Bijou—"
" Really? Are you sure?"
" No, I'm not. The dog is definitely a bijon frise puppy, but the photos you sent of Thierry aren't very clear. And the guy who's here with the dog looks, well, Irish."
" Sacre bleu! Zat is him!"
" What? Thierry is just Terry? I thought he was French!" I glanced nervously toward the man, but fortunately he didn't seem to have heard me.
" No, he is Irish. His surname is O'Callaghan," she explained. "Oh, Franki! It is him, non ?"
" There's an easy way to find out. Does Thierry, er, Terry, have a tattoo on his right bicep?"
" Oui ! It is a leprechaun. From ze Americain cereal."
" Wait a second. Do you mean Lucky? The Lucky Charms leprechaun?"
" Voilà! You know him, Franki?"
" I know him well, Corinne," I replied, thinking that this Thierry or Terry or whoever was kind of lame. I mean, an Irishman with a Lucky the Leprechaun tattoo was like an Italian with a tattoo of Super Mario. Pitiful. And besides, Notre Dame's Fighting Irish mascot would have made a way better stereotypical tattoo, especially for a big, muscular guy like the one romping around before me with the little powder puff of white.
" Franki, are you still zere?" She sounded panicked.
" Yes, Corinne. I'm sorry. I got distracted for a moment."
" Zis guy, does he have ze lucky leprechaun?" she asked in a desperate tone.
I turned to see that the guy was now walking the little dog. His right arm was extended from holding the leash, so I had a clear shot of the tattoo. Sure enough, it was Lucky on his arm. I would know that leprechaun anywhere.
"It's him, all right. You'd better get down here right away."
C HAPTER SEVEN
I looked at my watch for the umpteenth time. Twenty minutes had passed since I 'd called Corinne, but there was still no sign of her. I anxiously wondered how much longer it was going to take for her to get to Jackson Square. Terry wasn't going to stay at the park forever, and I certainly didn't want to have to confront him over Bijou. After all, the guy was the size of The Jolly Green Giant.
I pulled out my phone and texted Corinne, asking where she was. No sooner had I hit send than Terry and Bijou began walking toward the exit. I had to act right away. I hurried over and stepped deliberately in front of Corinne 's giant ex.
" Terry O'Callaghan?" I began with a slight quiver in my voice. "Stop right where you are!" I was deliberately throwing in some familiar police lingo for effect.
Terry slowly turned his bulky frame to look at me. It suddenly occurred to me that if his whole body were green like his Lucky the Leprechaun tattoo, he would look just like The Incredible Hulk.
"Do I know you?" His voice was dangerously soft.
" No, but I'm a private investigator, and I know that dog is stolen. So if you leave this park, I'm afraid I'm going to have to make a citizen's arrest."
He lowered his eyelids and looked at me long and hard. And then, to my complete surprise, he began to cry like a baby. A very large Irish baby. He sobbed and blubbered in a mix of English and Gaelic, calling Bijou his "wee aingeal " and "little leanbh ," which I knew were terms of endearment from all the Murder She Wrote episodes set in Ireland. Who said you couldn't learn anything from TV?
As I carefully took the leash from Terry 's oversized hand, I saw Corinne running toward us out of the corner of my eye. She had a look of grave concern on her face.
" Thierry! What is ze matter? Why you are crying?"
Upon hearing Corinne 's voice, Terry's sobs turned to wails. And oddly enough, he sounded exactly like a howling dog.
Before I knew it, Corinne had wrapped her tiny Tinker Bell arms around his Hulk-like waist. "Zere, zere. Everysing is okay now, Thierry."
I stood there
" Allo , Franki?" Corinne asked in an anxious tone.
" Yes, I'm at the park at Jackson Square," I said, my voice lowered to a whisper. "There's a little white dog here that could be Bijou—"
" Really? Are you sure?"
" No, I'm not. The dog is definitely a bijon frise puppy, but the photos you sent of Thierry aren't very clear. And the guy who's here with the dog looks, well, Irish."
" Sacre bleu! Zat is him!"
" What? Thierry is just Terry? I thought he was French!" I glanced nervously toward the man, but fortunately he didn't seem to have heard me.
" No, he is Irish. His surname is O'Callaghan," she explained. "Oh, Franki! It is him, non ?"
" There's an easy way to find out. Does Thierry, er, Terry, have a tattoo on his right bicep?"
" Oui ! It is a leprechaun. From ze Americain cereal."
" Wait a second. Do you mean Lucky? The Lucky Charms leprechaun?"
" Voilà! You know him, Franki?"
" I know him well, Corinne," I replied, thinking that this Thierry or Terry or whoever was kind of lame. I mean, an Irishman with a Lucky the Leprechaun tattoo was like an Italian with a tattoo of Super Mario. Pitiful. And besides, Notre Dame's Fighting Irish mascot would have made a way better stereotypical tattoo, especially for a big, muscular guy like the one romping around before me with the little powder puff of white.
" Franki, are you still zere?" She sounded panicked.
" Yes, Corinne. I'm sorry. I got distracted for a moment."
" Zis guy, does he have ze lucky leprechaun?" she asked in a desperate tone.
I turned to see that the guy was now walking the little dog. His right arm was extended from holding the leash, so I had a clear shot of the tattoo. Sure enough, it was Lucky on his arm. I would know that leprechaun anywhere.
"It's him, all right. You'd better get down here right away."
C HAPTER SEVEN
I looked at my watch for the umpteenth time. Twenty minutes had passed since I 'd called Corinne, but there was still no sign of her. I anxiously wondered how much longer it was going to take for her to get to Jackson Square. Terry wasn't going to stay at the park forever, and I certainly didn't want to have to confront him over Bijou. After all, the guy was the size of The Jolly Green Giant.
I pulled out my phone and texted Corinne, asking where she was. No sooner had I hit send than Terry and Bijou began walking toward the exit. I had to act right away. I hurried over and stepped deliberately in front of Corinne 's giant ex.
" Terry O'Callaghan?" I began with a slight quiver in my voice. "Stop right where you are!" I was deliberately throwing in some familiar police lingo for effect.
Terry slowly turned his bulky frame to look at me. It suddenly occurred to me that if his whole body were green like his Lucky the Leprechaun tattoo, he would look just like The Incredible Hulk.
"Do I know you?" His voice was dangerously soft.
" No, but I'm a private investigator, and I know that dog is stolen. So if you leave this park, I'm afraid I'm going to have to make a citizen's arrest."
He lowered his eyelids and looked at me long and hard. And then, to my complete surprise, he began to cry like a baby. A very large Irish baby. He sobbed and blubbered in a mix of English and Gaelic, calling Bijou his "wee aingeal " and "little leanbh ," which I knew were terms of endearment from all the Murder She Wrote episodes set in Ireland. Who said you couldn't learn anything from TV?
As I carefully took the leash from Terry 's oversized hand, I saw Corinne running toward us out of the corner of my eye. She had a look of grave concern on her face.
" Thierry! What is ze matter? Why you are crying?"
Upon hearing Corinne 's voice, Terry's sobs turned to wails. And oddly enough, he sounded exactly like a howling dog.
Before I knew it, Corinne had wrapped her tiny Tinker Bell arms around his Hulk-like waist. "Zere, zere. Everysing is okay now, Thierry."
I stood there
Similar Books
