D.b. Hayes, Detective. Dani Sinclair
a gun?”
He seemed to be trying to decide where I was hiding one under my snug white shorts and thin pink T-shirt.
“Not at the moment. This is a simple tail job. No guns required. Think you can help me out?”
He finished his joint and nodded. I could see the questions bubbling up inside him, so I was surprised when he glanced at his watch and straightened.
“I’ll check for you, but you’d better wait around the corner over there. Benny’ll be dumping trash pretty soon and he won’t like you hanging here.”
“Thanks. That’s fine.”
“I’ll be back, but it might be a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Unless Elaine decided to leave here all of a sudden, too.
I tried not to feel conspicuous as I moved to stand near the corner of the restaurant where I could keep an eye on the parking lot. The day’s heat was finally melting away. There was even a welcome breeze coming in off the lake. Unfortunately I was too nervous to be properly appreciative. The luscious smells wafting from the kitchen were making me drool. I wondered if they fed strays at the kitchen door. I’d willingly sit up and beg for a taste of what I was sniffing. The longer I stood there, the louder my stomach complained. I fervently wished my busboy would return and tell me what was going on inside.
After what felt like I’d been standing there for hours, he scooted out the back door and rushed over to where I was waiting.
“I can’t stay,” he told me breathlessly. “Your woman’s in there, all right. Table thirty-two. She ordered the French onion soup with tonight’s special, the lobster fettuccine—”
“Did she meet anyone?” I interrupted before he could give me any more details. Visualizing food when my stomach was knocking against the back of my ribs was sheer torture. “Has anyone approached her table?”
“Nope. As far as I can tell, she’s completely alone. Kinda surprising. I mean, she’s not bad looking for an older woman, you know? She just ordered coffee and the white-chocolate-mousse cake, so she’ll probably be in there for another half hour or so. She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”
I fished out my twenty and watched it disappear into his hip pocket. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem. Want me to bring you something from the kitchen while you’re waiting?”
More than anything in the world. With extreme reluctance I shook my head, reminding myself I was supposed to be on a diet anyhow.
“Thanks, but I have to be ready to roll when she is. What’s your name, anyhow?”
“Rob. Rob Deluth.”
I stuck out my hand. “Dee Hayes,” I told him as we shook. “Thanks again for your help, Rob. If you ever need a P.I., look me up. I’m in the phone book. I don’t have any cards on me at the moment.” The new ones I’d printed were still sitting on my desk in the office back at the flower shop. I’d forgotten to stick them in my folder again.
“Cool. Thanks. I gotta get back before they miss me.”
As he ran back to the kitchen entrance, I hurried across the parking lot to the Jaguar. There were a lot of people moving about now, but no one gave me a second glance. I’m not sure why I went over to her car, really. I wasn’t looking for anything specific, but since I had time to kill, checking out her car seemed like the natural thing to do.
Elaine hadn’t struck me as a careless person. She certainly didn’t drive like one, yet she’d left her driver’s door unlocked. The temptation was irresistible. This was probably the only opportunity I’d ever have to sit in a Jaguar. Besides, there was a sheet of paper lying on the passenger’s seat. I needed to check it out. It could be a clue.
The plush leather seat cocooned me the moment I sank down. The opulent interior still retained a trace of coolness from the air conditioner. Reaching for the paper, I saw it was a set of hand-printed directions to a piano lounge downtown called Victor’s. I’d never heard of the place, but the directions were straightforward and it wasn’t far from here. Tuesday, 8:00 p.m., and a phone number had been printed across the top like an afterthought.
This was almost too easy. Fate seemed to be nurturing me for once. I blew it a mental kiss and made a note of the phone number. I wondered if the number went with the lounge or the person she was supposed to meet. Since it looked like a cell phone number, odds were it was the latter, but I wouldn’t know for sure unless I gave the number a try.
The car itself was so pristine, it could have just come from a car wash. Heck, it probably had. Binky hadn’t seen the inside of a car wash since…come to think of it, he may never have seen the inside of a car wash. I decided to make it up to him first chance I got while I continued to search the interior of the Jag. I didn’t expect to find a thing.
Certainly not the .38 revolver she had tucked up under the driver’s seat.
That gave me serious pause. Why was someone like Elaine Russo carrying concealed? I guess it made sense if her husband was a mobster. And I suppose it was possible she had a permit. Still, that heavy lump of metal made me very nervous. It implied a whole lot of things and none of them were good. People with guns have a bad habit of firing them.
I own a gun, but I’ve only ever used it on a firing range. It isn’t something I carry around, even though I have a permit. I replaced the weapon carefully back under the front seat. A strand of blond hair on the carpeting caught my attention.
Interesting. Either Elaine had extremely dry, coarse hair or she liked wigs. Wearing one in this heat didn’t seem likely unless she had some sort of a physical problem requiring one.
Tucking the hair in my pocket, I stepped from the car and crossed the lot to where I’d parked Binky. Sam Two sat on the driver’s seat scratching at the box on the passenger side. The minute he saw me, he leaped onto the box and over the seat into the back once more.
Binky was warmer inside than the Jag had been, but the temperature wasn’t too bad anymore. That breeze coming in off the lake through the windows had cooled things down considerably, and it probably helped that I was parked in the shade. Still, I was worried about the cats.
“Sorry, guys. I should have asked Rob for some water. I could use a drink myself, but we’ll have to wait until I get you home.”
Neither of them made a sound as I reached for my cell phone and punched in the number printed on the paper I’d found.
“Hello?” A decidedly delicious voice answered.
Deep, rich, sexy and male, the sound washed over me. Definitely not Victor’s Lounge unless this was Victor himself.
“Sorry,” I told the voice. “I must have the wrong number.”
“Who were you trying to reach?”
There was a sudden edge to the voice. It was still a great voice.
“Sharon Armstrong,” I told him. I pulled a friend’s name off the top of my head and read him back his number, transposing the last two digits. He corrected me immediately.
I could have listened to his voice forever, but my quarry chose that moment to leave the restaurant, so I apologized and hung up. I wondered if the man matched his voice. Then I wondered if I was about to find out. Was she on her way to meet the man behind that voice?
There was enough traffic on the street that I didn’t have to worry about being spotted now. When I felt certain Elaine’s destination was the address on the paper, I decided to take a chance. I turned off, took a shortcut that would bring me up on the street behind Victor’s and parked the car where I’d have no trouble getting out in a hurry. I walked around the block and stood across the street in the doorway of a closed shop. It afforded me a good view of the parking lot as well as the front door of the lounge while keeping me relatively concealed.