Like Pizza and Beer. Elle Parker
I figured Seth had good cause to be concerned. It was my experience, however, that cause or no cause, women didn’t typically give up a man until they were good and ready to. I didn’t bother with police records on her, because I knew damn well they would be squeaky clean.
I took out my notebook and wrote down the address where Frank worked, his truck’s license plate and description, since Seth had only ever referred to it as “that cheap-ass piece of shit,” and a few other pertinent details I thought might come in handy.
This was one of the more delicate cases I’d handled. Mostly because I knew Seth and Molly, and they were like family to me, but also because Molly stood a good chance of getting hurt. For whatever reason, she loved this guy, and making her see him for what he really was wouldn’t be fun for her. Personally, I thought he’d been using her since day one, but it wasn’t my place to say. We would have to tread lightly.
Gigi’s case beckoned, and either way, it was time to hit the streets. I was still a little early, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to do some of the preliminary leg work, so I grabbed my phone and keys and went downstairs to the car.
The ladies were out on their patio, so I went around the corner of the building to say hello.
“Good mornin’, sugar,” Della purred with a broader smile than usual. Which is saying something, because Della Vinson Owen is a Southern belle who learned her craft well and has never once said anything to me that didn’t have at least a hint of innuendo in it. “Don’t you look all chipper and satisfied this morning.”
Ruth gave her a stern look and turned to me. “Dino, good morning. Wonderful day, isn’t it?”
“Ah, yes it is,” I said, watching the silent, but not entirely subtle battle of wills between the two. Ruth Fletcher is Della’s roommate, and they live upstairs next to me. She is ordinarily as down-to-earth and practical as you can get.
The other two women at the table were Adele Triggs and Fern Quigley, her sister-in-law, who shared the ground floor apartment. Adele owned the building and ultimately ruled the roost over all of us. She took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew out smoke. When I turned to her, she said, “Della wants to know who that woman was last night, and Ruth thinks she should mind her own God damned business.”
Adele is nothing if not blunt, but for all her gravelly ways, she’s a decent lady.
Ruth said, “Well, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but yes, I have been trying to convince Della that we can’t be prying into Dino’s affairs. Especially considering the line of work he’s in.”
“Oh, is it an affair, sugar?” Della clasped her hands together with girlish glee. “She’s very lovely, and the two of you made quite a picture.”
“Della!” Ruth shook her head.
I chuckled and slipped my hands in my pockets. “She’s a client, Della, nothing more.”
“Oh, but she said you two were old friends,” Della countered, eyes twinkling. She’s not stupid, and she knew exactly what kind of friends we were. That was all I needed.
“You spoke to her?” I asked.
“I did my best to keep Della from grilling her,” Ruth told me. “We were having a nightcap out here last night when she came up to the door. She asked if we knew whether or not you were at home, that’s all.”
“I offered her a glass of wine,” Della said, “but the poor dear looked nervous and said she’d rather wait in her car.”
Adele coughed and said in her sandpaper voice, “You don’t think she was just trying to get away from you?”
Della thrust her nose in the air. “I was only tryin’ to be polite.”
“Polite, my ass. The FBI is polite compared to you.”
“Well, I never.”
I laughed and held up my hands. “Ladies, it’s all right, really. Gigi’s a tough woman, she can hold her own. Della, don’t quiz my clients, or I won’t have any left.”
“I’m sorry, sugar,” she pouted. “Normally, I wouldn’t dream of it, but you know I can’t help myself when there’s romance in the air.”
“There is no romance in the air, only detective work.” I looked at my watch. “And speaking of detective work, I better get started on it. You ladies have a lovely day.”
They all wished me a good morning, and I turned to walk out to the car.
* * * *
I drove up to Clearwater, heading for the county courthouse. To start with, I planned to build a background file on Salvatore’s. I knew most of the history of the place from having dated Gigi, but I wanted to make sure there weren’t any surprises, and it didn’t hurt to cover old ground. You never know what you’re going to turn up.
I pulled into the lot of the Pinellas County Courthouse and found a little slice of shade to park Matilda in. I generally try to hit places like this before the lunch hour when the clerks are in a more helpful frame of mind. In this case it paid off, because the girl behind the counter was as perky as I could have hoped for. I was third in line, and by the time I got to the window, I had a pretty good read on how to approach her.
“Hi there,” I said, flashing my most charming smile. I set my briefcase on the floor and leaned against the counter casually.
“Good morning. How can I help you?”
“Well, I need to get a report on a piece of property I’m interested in.”
“All right. Address, please?” I gave her the address for Salvatore’s, and she started tapping away at her keyboard. “Okay,” she said, scanning the screen, “if you have specific questions, I can answer those, or for ten dollars you can get a printout. I should tell you that you can also look up most of this stuff online for free if you want to.”
I knew that already, and I didn’t want to, because I don’t care what anyone says, you don’t get complete or accurate information that way. The internet is great for all kinds of stuff, but some things are still better done the old-fashioned way.
“Is there a lot there?”
“There’s standard property information, which I’m sure you want, but there’s also all the business statistics. There’s licensing details, plus a list of all complaints and inspections.”
“Really,” I said. “What can you tell me about the complaints? Are there a lot of them?”
“There aren’t a ton of them, but quite a few are recent ones.”
“Does it say who made the complaints?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, that’s confidential. But I can tell you what the complaints were. That’s a matter of public record.”
“Yeah, okay, can you just add it to my printout?”
“I sure can,” she said with a smile, punching a few more keys. “Now, are you the same person who requested these reports a month ago, or do you need the full set?”
That caught my attention. “Ah, no, I am not that person. Does it say who requested the report?”
Again, the head shake. “Sorry, no. There’s just a timestamp telling me when the last report was run.”
“I don’t suppose you could find out what other records were run with it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, furrowing her brow. “No one’s ever asked for that.” She started typing again, clicking through various screens. “Well, the best I can find is a list of all the records requested on that date, for all the stations here. It’s pretty long.”
“Are we talkin’ ten pages or a hundred?”
“Looks like eight,” she said.
“Can