Diamond in the Rough (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 8)
DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
First edition. December 4, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Gina LaManna.
Written by Gina LaManna.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Diamond in the Rough (Kate Rosetti, #8)
BLURB
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Author’s Note
To all of my readers - thank you!
Dedication:
This book is dedicated first and foremost to all my readers who have been patient over this last year while I worked to get this book to you. Thank you for your understanding and for sticking around!
Second, this book is dedicated to the people of Ukraine during a difficult holiday season. Slava Ukraini!
Special Thanks:
To Alex and Leo and Max—You boys are my world! я тебя люблю!
To my family—I love you!
To Stacia—Not only my editor but a best friend as well.
BLURB
When Kate Rosetti is called to the scene of a gruesome murder on the morning of Valentine’s Day, she’s hardly surprised. After all, it seems love just isn’t in the cards for her. Fortunately, Detective Rosetti has a new case to throw herself into headfirst. This time it isn’t just any dead body. This time it’s personal, and Kate stands to lose everything.
However, solving a murder is never as easy as it sounds, and neither is Kate’s love life. As Kate dives deeper into the investigation involving a man who played a pivotal role in her family’s past, her future is getting all sorts of blurred. A certain billionaire seems intent on keeping her close. A former flame isn’t completely out of the picture. So what’s a girl to do when the new case she’s working suddenly puts the lives of the people she loves in danger?
Chapter 1
I yanked the steering wheel and lifted my foot off the brake to coast over a patch of black ice leading into the precinct’s parking lot. I hadn’t quite slowed enough as I’d approached, and I felt the telltale winter tires slip and slide as my vehicle careened toward my mother’s café.
Adding a few curse words to the morning’s tally, I straightened the steering wheel before I plowed through the shop’s front window. I hardly noticed Detective Frankie Dunkirk as he gave me a wave while I sailed on by. I did, however, catch his smirk as I skidded past.
Dunkirk held a container of salt in his hands and had obviously drawn the short straw on this nippy Monday morning. He’d been sent out to do the dirty work after the weekend’s snowstorm and was tossing more salt down in the parking lot as my car finally, blissfully, landed in a parking space.
I cut the engine, looked longingly at my mother’s coffee shop, and made a snap risk-reward analysis in my head regarding the pros and cons of popping in for my caffeine haul. Pros: Good coffee, free coffee, lots of coffee. Cons: My mother’s presence.
Normally, the latter wasn’t a huge issue, but today I suspected that wouldn’t be the case. Seeing as it was Valentine’s Day, and I was somewhat newly single, I was pretty certain my mother would have questions for me. Or worse.
“Taking that corner a little fast, eh?” The empty salt canister dangled from Dunkirk’s fingers. “I thought you were going to take me out before sliding through your mother’s front window.”
“I had it under control.” I slammed my door shut.
My pros and cons list had shifted slightly with the appearance of Dunkirk. I didn’t really feel like walking with him into the precinct and getting teased about my lackluster driving skills on this Monday morning. It was already such an awful holiday, and I felt no desire to pile on the misery.
“I’m going to grab a coffee.” I thumbed toward the Seventh Street Café, the little bakery business my mother owned next door to my place of employment. Weakly, I added, “Want something?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
“Does this mean you’re not going to mention my driving skills to Jimmy?”
Dunkirk gave me another good-natured smirk. “Better make that a large latte.”
I headed toward the café, curling in against the bitter cold wind. I hadn’t worn a hat or mittens because I was a Minnesotan through and through, which meant I had the illogical notion that just walking a little faster would ensure I didn’t get cold. It was a thing. A dumb thing, but a thing.
The second the warm air from my mother’s shop embraced me, I let out a long sigh and released the tense muscles of my shoulders. I straightened, stretching after the crisp jaunt across the parking lot. I pretended to look at the menu, as if I really needed to think about what I wanted to order.
“Good morning!” My mother poked her head out from behind a massive bouquet of red roses. “There’s my sweet pea. What can I get you today?”
“Don’t do that, Mom.” I unzipped the top few inches of my jacket and rolled my shoulders, trying to avert the stress before it hit me. Maybe I should’ve just gone with Dunkirk and taken the heat for my crappy driving this morning.
“Do what?” Her voice rose an octave.
“That voice. I’ll take two venti lattes.”
“Two?” My mother’s eyes widened. “Elizabeth, did you hear that? Two lattes, right away. Who’s the other one for?”
“Dunkirk blackmailed me into buying his coffee.” I met my mother’s gaze head-on. “Romantic, huh?”
“Why do your dates always end in blackmail or murder?” My mom visibly deflated. Her voice returned to its normal register. “So you’ve got nothing to tell me?”
I sneezed. “I think your flowers are giving me allergies.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody’s allergic to roses.”
“Okay. Tell that to my doctor who told me to take Benadryl after I broke out in hives from that rose scented lotion you gave me for Christmas last year.”
My mother ignored me and arranged her bouquet pointedly. “Your father did a wonderful job this year. Twenty-four long-stemmed red roses.”
“Guess he’s trying to make up for all those Valentine’s Days he missed while he was in prison.”
“Kate.” My mother clucked at me, but she didn’t seem bothered. She seemed elated.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”
“Oh, sweetie. So do you. How are you, really?” My mother leaned against the counter, her eyes softening as she looked at me. “It’s your first Valentine’s Day single. Do you have plans?”
“It’s hardly my first Valentine’s Day single,” I corrected. “And no. No plans. On purpose. I’m not sad about it.”
“Thou doth protest too much.”
“Those lattes?”
“What about—”
“The lattes.”
Elizabeth, my moth
er’s college-aged employee, sought pity on me and handed me two large drinks. She’d put little heart stickers over the lip of the cup as drink stoppers. I gave her a smile.
“I’ve got to get to work,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Tell me you don’t have a murder today,” my mother said. “Nobody should be murdered on Valentine’s Day.”
I gave my mother a funny look, peeled the heart sticker from my cup, and tossed it in the trash. Then I kicked the door open and made my way back to the precinct—freezing once again because I’d forgotten to re-zip my jacket, and I was too stubborn to stop and correct my error.
I caught a glimpse of my own pink cheeks and a red nose in the window as I made my way into the precinct and cursed myself for never wearing a scarf. Not to mention I’d taken the stupid heart sticker off my drink, so my latte had gone practically frozen. I debated switching it out with Frankie’s, but my conscience won out. I handed Dunkirk his coffee as I slid by his desk, waiting for a wisecrack about my slip-and-slide parking job this morning.
Frankie took one look at the heart on his cup and gave me a wink instead. “I knew you loved me, Rosetti. Sorry, I’m not interested.”
Jimmy Jones, my longtime partner, barked a laugh from his desk. I narrowed my eyes at him. He shut right up.
I made it to my desk and found a doughnut waiting for me. It was in the shape of a heart. Pink frosting covered it. The whole thing was a little mushed and misshapen. But it was definitely a heart. And a doughnut.
My own heart started racing. It pounded for a good long minute before I looked up and realized Jimmy was staring at me expectantly from his desk. I let out a massive breath of relief.
“Valentine’s sweets from your secret admirer,” Jimmy said with a twinkle in his eye. “Me. That’s me, Rosetti. I’m your secret admirer.”
“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” I said with heavy sarcasm. “Won’t your wife be jealous?”
“Let’s not tell her about this,” Jimmy said. “I got the buy-two-get-one-free special at the gas station this morning, and I’m supposed to be off doughnuts for another week on my dumb diet.”
“Wow, you got me a squished, freebie doughnut.” I sat at my desk. “I love you too.”
“You didn’t get me a squished, freebie doughnut,” Jimmy replied. “I’d appreciate a squished free doughnut sometime. Let’s say St. Patrick’s Day. Or President’s Day—that’s much sooner.”
“Point taken.” I sat, took a bite of my squished, freebie doughnut, and decided it definitely wasn’t the worst way to start a Valentine’s Day.
I flicked on my computer and washed down the cheap sugar high with a swallow of caffeine. The combination hit my bloodstream about two seconds later.
Before I could check my email, an instant message popped up on my screen. I frowned when I saw it was from Jimmy. I glanced over at him, but he was deftly ignoring me. I clicked into his message to find out what he was up to.
JIMMY JONES: I saw that.
KATE ROSETTI: Saw what?
JIMMY JONES: You panicked when you saw that heart doughnut. Pale as a ghost. Looked like death warmed over.
KATE ROSETTI: You’re descriptive this morning. And you’re reading too much into it.
JIMMY JONES: Who’d you think the Valentine’s gift was from?
KATE ROSETTI: Who’d I think cared enough about me to leave a squished free doughnut on my desk, you mean?
JIMMY JONES: You panicked.
KATE ROSETTI: Chief is calling me.
“Hello?” I leaned back in my seat and answered my phone. “Yes, sir, he’s here. Okay, sure. I’ll meet you there.”
Jimmy looked torn. He still looked somewhat amused from our private chat session, but a look of concern had entered his eye. He knew me better than just about anyone, and I was pretty sure he could see the change in my disposition.
“Saved by the bell, huh?” Jimmy prompted.
“Thank God,” I said. “We’ve got a dead body.”
“I’m gonna let you think about the words that just came out of your mouth,” Jimmy said, a little twinkle in his eye, “and I’m gonna let you rephrase that before everyone in this room thinks you’re a psychopath.”
“The chief needs us at a scene. Now. He asked for me and you specifically, and only us. That’s all I got.”
“The chief’s actually at the scene?” Jimmy’s eyes lost all signs of amusement. “Live and in person?”
“Sounds like it,” I said, feeling the same heavy weight descend on my shoulders as I processed the meaning of it. “Which means we’ve gotta get going before the press gets wind of whatever’s happened.”
Chapter 2
The body in question was on the Minneapolis side of the river this morning. I drove through town with Jimmy alongside me. A part of me had expected some lighthearted chatter as we headed through St. Paul toward the crime scene. A little more teasing about Valentine’s Day followed by a few innocent enough, but still pointed, questions about my lack of plans for the night.
Instead, I got a lot of silence. Apparently I wasn’t the only one uneasy with the chief’s summons. Chief Rex Sturgeon, my boss, had the sort of job that required a lot of sitting behind a desk, heading up meetings, and facing the press. Though he was an accomplished detective in his own right, he’d graduated to the political side of the police business. The side of the business I tried to steer far, far away from. Still, I had a lot of respect for the chief, even though we’d been known to butt heads over the years.
The fact that he was at the scene in person, early on a Monday morning, spoke volumes. If I had to guess, the crime was either particularly heinous, extremely dangerous, or involved a prominent person. At the risk of sounding cynical, my money was on the latter.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, huh?” Jimmy rubbed at his forehead. He glanced out the window as I merged onto the highway. “Sure to be an extra sweet one for the chief to grace us with his presence. My money’s on a big name. You?”
“I’m not going to pony up a wager on that bet.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t recognize the address. I know the area. It’s a nice spot near the river. Houses are pricey there now, but I feel like a good chunk of the people have been living there forever and nabbed them for cheap back in the day.”
“I’ve been over this way a few times. The street name sorta rings a bell. Can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s been a long time.”
More uneasy silence. A few minutes later, we reached the street that Google had directed us to. I flicked on my blinker and took a sideways glance at Jimmy to see if this had jogged his memory.
“I came to a Christmas party here once,” Jimmy murmured, as much to himself as to me. “It was a long time ago, a couple of decades.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m sure the owners have changed over since then.”
“I’m sure.”
Despite Jimmy’s agreement, I could see worry creasing his eyes as I began to slow. He began to shake his head as I applied the brakes and pulled over to the side of the street. A few houses up, several officers were on the scene, still roping off the area. The chief stood elbow to elbow with a man I recognized as a longtime member of the fire department. I thought I glimpsed a charred vehicle behind him.
I parked and opened the car door. Jimmy cursed under his breath as he exited. The air surrounding the quiet, tree-lined street smelled like a barbecue. An SUV barbecue, to be exact. A thin plume of smoke snaked through the air.
“Arson?” I wondered aloud as Jimmy joined me. I cleared my throat and hesitated. “Do you recognize this place?”
Jimmy cursed again. He didn’t seem inclined to expand.
The chief caught sight of me and Jimmy. He waved us over before I could pester my partner about what he knew and wasn’t telling me.
“Rosetti, Jones, this is Joe Fritz. You guys have met.”
Chief Sturgeon quickly waved between the firefighter and us. We were all vaguel
y familiar with one another and exchanged brisk nods. Nobody seemed in the mood for small talk. Even the dark humor that usually pervaded crime scenes felt out of reach this morning.
“We got a 911 call about half an hour ago,” Chief Sturgeon started. He gestured at the vehicle. “Car fire. One of the neighbors called it in when they smelled smoke.”
“Did they see what happened?” I asked. “Did anybody come forward with additional information?”
“Not yet.” Chief Sturgeon glanced at Fritz as if looking for approval. Fritz nodded, and Sturgeon continued. “Fritz and a couple of his guys were first on the scene. He happened to recognize the address.”
I frowned as I cast a glance at Jimmy, then Fritz. If both of them recognized the address, that didn’t bode well. I caught Jimmy and Fritz exchanging yet another look. Fritz had a fully gray head of hair and looked to be similar in age to Jimmy. As if to confirm my theory, Sturgeon nodded at me.
“It’s a little before your time, Rosetti.” Sturgeon cleared his throat. “But your dad would know the name.”
“Sir, I’m not sure how that’s relevant to this case,” I said briskly. “Can someone tell me what’s going on? Who’s in that car?”
“We can’t say for sure yet—”
“Chief,” I said warningly, “you called me for a reason this morning.”
“Does the name Jeff Heinrich mean anything to you?”
A worm of dread slithered down my spine. The name sounded familiar, and with it came a sense of foreboding. I couldn’t exactly place who he was in relation to me, or why I was supposed to know of him. The confusion must have shown on my face because the chief continued.
“Retired detective of the St. Paul force,” Sturgeon said. “A lot of the guys who’ve been around for a while worked with him.”
I looked to Jimmy, who was staring at his feet. Fritz watched me with interest.
“There’s more to the story, isn’t there?” I met the chief’s gaze. “Based on the way y’all are tiptoeing around me here.”