D.b. Hayes, Detective

From now on, I vowed, I’d keep a couple of outfits in the trunk for emergencies like this one. In the meantime I was stuck. I couldn’t follow her inside, so I’d have to see if I could find a place outside where I could peer in.

No such luck. The entire back wall was elevated and composed of tinted glass. Patrons could see out over the lake, but I couldn’t see in.

I was making my way around the building when I surprised a young man near the kitchen entrance. He was puffing a joint in a secluded nook near the trash bins. His body jerked, sharply startled when I appeared around the corner.

“Hey. What are you doing here? You aren’t allowed back here.”

At a guess, he was about seventeen. Based on his dark pants and white shirt I figured him for a busboy. I offered him a friendly smile.

“You aren’t allowed to smoke weed either, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping you. Look, I’m not interested in your drug habits, I’m a private investigator,” I told him before he could get bent out of shape.

“Yeah, right.”

Whipping out my ID folder, I offered him proof. He studied it almost as carefully as Mickey had.

“Hey, cool. You want a hit?”

“No, thanks, but I could use your help.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a woman inside the restaurant. Tall blonde, short hair with bangs. She’s wearing a pale blue skirt and a matching silk blouse.” I pulled out the picture of Elaine Russo and gave him a look. “She went in alone a few minutes ago. I need to know who she’s meeting in there. There’s a twenty in it for you if you can help me out.”

Which would leave me exactly three dollars in cash until I found an ATM. But, hey, I’d get the money back under expenses.

The kid smirked. He looked me up and down curiously. I could see he was intrigued.

“How come you want to know about her?”

I shrugged, trying for blasé. “It’s my job. Her husband hired me to see if she’s meeting another man.”

“I thought P.I.’s were guys like they show on television.”

“Lots of them are,” I agreed, trying not to grit my teeth. “Haven’t you ever heard of Charlie’s Angels?”

His eyes lit. “Like the movies?”

“Less death-defying action but the same concept.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. You carry 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.