Day Zero. Chris Jayne
of event that Lori needed to go well. One of Mr. Saldata’s guests had been Senator Kyle Michaels, current United States senator from Florida; a second guest was the assistant chief of police in the Miami police department. Precisely the kind of people whom Lori wanted to remember Top Hat Catering favorably.
Delicious food, beautifully presented, in the comfort of the client’s own home. That was Lori’s mantra, and that’s exactly what had gone down, right up until the moment that Mr. Saldata had walked into the kitchen. Lori had just taken the individual apple pies out of the oven and was ready to plate the desserts when he came in, and with no preamble, told her it was time for her and her staff of two to leave. Astonished, Lori had tried to query him as to whether there had been a problem with the meal. He had assured her that it had been fine, but without engaging in any further discussion, he’d announced, “Please be gone in five minutes. Don’t worry about cleaning up. The housekeeper can do it.” With no further word, he’d turned and left the kitchen, leaving Lori, open-mouthed, with Salvadore and Michelle, all staring speechless at his back.
Not knowing what else to do, Lori had quickly gathered up the cooking things that were her property, her high-end knives, her special soufflé pan. She’d shepherded her two staff members to the door. And, with what-the-hell expressions on their faces, they left.
As Lori continued to drive, she suddenly thought about her staff members and knew a moment of hesitation. Could one of them have grabbed her bag and accidentally carrying it to their car, and then forgotten to tell her? Best call and check, Lori realized.
Quickly she punched in Michelle’s number, praying that they had her bag. That way she could avoid this errand altogether. Michelle and Salvadore were a couple, and had driven to the Saldata residence together. Lori didn’t know for sure, but she assumed they’d be together.
Michelle’s sleepy voice came on to the phone line. “Lori. Everything OK?”
Quickly Lori explained about her catch-all. “I was just wondering if there was any chance you guys grabbed it and put it in your car.”
“I wish,” Michelle responded. “Sorry. I never noticed it.”
“No worries. I’m on my way there now. I just thought I’d call before I got there on the chance you might have it. The housekeeper’s not there, so this means I’m going to have to wake Mr. Saldata up. After last night, that’s the last thing I want to do.” She paused. “Wasn’t that just about the strangest thing ever?”
Because Salvadore and Michelle come in their own vehicle, and no one had wanted to linger in the driveway for a chat, they had not gotten an opportunity to discuss the odd situation the previous night.
“Hold on,” Michelle said. “Sal is still asleep.” Lori could hear the rustle of bedclothes as Michelle moved out of the bedroom. In a few seconds, her voice came more loudly. “Sal and I talked on the way home, Lor. Listen to me. Something’s wrong there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sal heard Mr. Saldata speaking Spanish to one of the guests. He says that Spanish is not his first language. Saldata spoke it very well, but Salvatore could tell. He had an odd accent to his Spanish. Sal couldn’t place it.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because if you live in Miami, and your name is Saldata, you speak Spanish. Period.” Michelle paused for emphasis. “You speak Spanish, your mother speaks Spanish and your grandmother speaks Spanish.”
“Could Saldata be a Brazilian name?” Lori tried to make sense of it. “They speak Portuguese.”
“Maybe,” Michelle allowed, “but there was something else. That Senator? The so-called guest of honor? Sal said he was miserable. Spent most of the night looking like he was scared out of his mind.”
“What?” That was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Really?” Lori’s role at events like this was to prepare and manage the food. Salvatore was the server, and Michelle bridged the gap: helping both Lori in the kitchen and Salvatore in the dining room. Lori had barely set foot in the dining room and had only caught a brief glimpse of the Senator.
Lori certainly trusted Salvatore’s instincts and information, and if he said that Mr. Saldata was not a native Spanish speaker and that the Senator did not look happy to be there, Lori believed him… but what did it mean? Unless the Senator was unhappy about the food, there was nothing Lori could do about it.
She ended up just shaking her head. So what? Some clients just didn’t work out, and Lori was going to put Raoul Saldata into that group. Whatever the deal at Saldata’s, she was going to get her bag, leave, and not go back. If he called again, she’d politely turn him down.
She said a quick good-bye to Michelle, just as she pulled onto the expressway for the quick trip to the Key Barca waterway and the Saldata’s house.
Two minutes later, Lori was parked by the side of the road listening to the NPR announcer in astonishment.
Chapter 5
“So far, Fred,” the reporter was saying, talking to his host in the studio, “Miami Police are not releasing many details.”
“Well, Carl, what do we know?” Fred the Host asked soberly.
“Pretty much only that Senator Kyle Michaels, junior Senator from Florida, was shot and killed last night in Miami, in an apparent car-jacking. Miami police are treating the death as a homicide, but do not believe that the Senator was the target. Apparently the Senator was out with friends, with no security, in an unmarked vehicle.”
“So it was a random attack?”
“That’s what our sources are saying.”
“And where and when did this occur?”
“On South Miami Boulevard sometime after 3 a.m.”
“Do you know if there are any suspects in custody?”
“So far, Miami police aren’t saying. A news conference is scheduled for eleven a.m. Meanwhile, the President has released a statement offering his condolences to the Michaels family.”
Lori listened for a few more minutes, but after they repeated the same information for the third time, she knew that was all they were going to say for now. She looked numbly over her shoulder onto the road at the cars whizzing by. What the hell should she do?
If it were anything other than her wallet, her day planner and her computer, she’d wait until tomorrow, connect with the housekeeper again, and go from there. But all of her planning apps were on the computer; it was almost pointless to go to the home visits she’d booked without it. At least one of the women she was scheduled to see had left work to be home for the visit, so there was no way Lori could cancel. And really without her wallet she shouldn’t be driving at all. She needed those things, and she needed them now. She’d never, in her adult life, lost a purse or a computer, and Lori was shocked at how disoriented she felt without those items.
To say nothing of the news that had just come over the radio. She’d served the Senator a meal, and five hours later he was dead.
Suddenly, one of the reporter’s comments clicked. “Shot and killed,” the announcer had said, “with friends, in an unmarked vehicle.” With friends. What if one of those friends were Mr. Saldata? The announcer had said nothing about any other injuries, but the famous person might be the only one mentioned in the national news. Maybe that was why Saldata wasn’t answering. If he’d been with Senator Michaels in the car and he’d been injured, he was in the hospital. If he wasn’t injured, he was probably still talking to the police or the FBI. And if he were dead, Lori guessed cynically, she wouldn’t have to face turning him down for future catering jobs. But no matter what, she still had to get her purse back.
She checked the traffic and slowly pulled back out onto the expressway, feeling a lot more confident in her thinking. Sasha, who had sat up when they stopped,