by Jessica Beck
“I believe it was two hundred and fifty,” Grace said. Even for a fictional number, I thought it was much too high and entirely impossible to believe, but evidently Clint didn’t have that problem. “Plus, you know how Syl loves gossip. If we can give her a story about the chef’s roommate, it will be a cinch that she’ll book him just to hear his best escapades.”
That was all it took to open Clint up. He leaned on the counter and said softly, “Ladies, you wouldn’t believe what that scoundrel was up to. Not only was he dating one of the waitresses working last night, but he made a pass at another one! Then, to top things off, a jealous husband came by looking for him! I sent the man off on a wild goose chase, or Simon was going to be in big trouble.” Clint frowned at the thought as he added, “Maybe I should tell the police about David Clifton and his wife, Rosa, now that I think about it.”
“Ooh, that sounds juicy enough,” I said. “Was she there as well?”
He shrugged again. “I thought I caught a glimpse of her just before her husband showed up. She was Simon’s boss, did you know that?”
“Does she own a restaurant as well?” Grace asked. “My, I never knew Union Square had so many good places to eat.”
“No, Simon spent his days selling office supplies at Clifton’s over on Second,” he said. “He couldn’t get a real job as a chef.”
“Like you and Barton did, right?” Grace asked.
Clint looked at her suspiciously. “How exactly do you know Barton?”
I came up with an answer to that before Clint got too suspicious. “We’ve eaten at the hospital cafeteria. He’s really quite good, isn’t he?”
“If you care for that sort of food,” Clint said dismissively. I had to fight the impulse to defend Barton’s food, since that wasn’t why we were there.
“Do you have any other tidbits we might share with good old Sylvia?” I asked.
Clint was about to answer when a pair of businessmen walked in and looked around. “Are you open for lunch?”
“Yes, sir,” he said as he grabbed two menus and hustled toward them. I saw that Shalimar was still outside taking her extended break, even though the men had been forced to walk around her to get inside. I wasn’t sure how desperate Clint was for waitstaff, but he had to be able to do better than that. I took another bite of pie despite how full I was, and then I slapped a five on the counter. It would cover the bill, though just barely, but I didn’t feel too bad about it. Shalimar’s service had been less than acceptable, and while I believed in tipping generously when someone made a real effort, I was also notorious for cutting one to the bone when it proved otherwise.
“Thanks,” I said as we rushed out the door.
“Would you like a business card for your friend?” Clint asked, desperately patting his pockets and finally producing one.
I took it and slid it into my jeans. “Thanks again. The money’s on the counter. Sorry to eat and run, Chef, but we really have to dash.”
“We’re meeting Bunny at the Country Club,” Grace said lightly. “And you don’t keep Bunny waiting long.”
And before the chef could protest, we were out the door.
Chapter 10
Shalimar ignored us as we were leaving, so I walked within six inches of her and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Can I help you with something in particular?” she asked in a surly manner.
“You were so nice to us inside, we wanted to stop by and say thank you personally,” I said, lying through my teeth. “Your boss was telling us about his roommate.”
“Yeah, well, Clint talks too much.”
“Were you an admirer of Simon’s cooking?” I asked her.
“Lady, I was a lot more than that until that Italian tramp came along and stole him away from me.”
I really had to bite my tongue. Calling Maria DeAngelis a tramp was outrageous, and I was about to comment despite knowing better when Grace grabbed my arm.
“You two really dated?” she asked the waitress.
“We were destined to be together,” Shalimar said. “Only Simon wasn’t ready to accept it yet.”
“I thought he was seeing a cute little redhead,” I said, doing my best to goad her into saying something she might regret.
“Cute? That barracuda? Simon was getting ready to dump her. We were going to get together again as soon as he made it happen. At least that’s what he promised me two nights ago.”
“But we heard he made a pass at another girl just last night,” I said.
“Boy, good old Clint sure does like to talk, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“It is true, though, isn’t it?”
“That’s what most people didn’t get. Simon was just friendly by nature. If somebody took his outgoing personality the wrong way, that was their problem, not his. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. Like I said, we were going to get back together.”
It sounded as though she was doing her best to convince herself, not us. “Didn’t it make you mad though, given the way he treated women?” I asked her.
She tensed up so much that I was afraid the waitress was going to come after me for one second, but she managed to bite back her temper at the last second. “He treated me just fine. Besides, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Grace said, goading her as well. I wasn’t sure it was the best plan of action anymore, but we didn’t get a chance to find out.
The front door of the diner opened, and Clint popped his head out, clearly upset about his waitress’s continued absence. “If you want to work here, then work, Shalimar.”
“Keep your shorts on. I’m coming,” she said, giving us both wicked stares as she returned.
“I hope to hear from you soon, ladies,” Clint said, trying to salvage his little outburst with a clearly insincere smile.
“Oh, you will, but for now, we really do need to go. Bunny won’t wait forever,” Grace said, and we got into my Jeep and drove off.
“Bunny?” I asked once we were away from the restaurant, trying to fight a smile.
“I was going to say Buffy, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Wow, Simon was not afraid of taking his swings at the plate when it came to women, was he?”
“I have a hunch that he batted one too many times,” I said. “Can you believe that he was having an affair with a married woman while dating Sherry West, and he still found time to make a pass at Emma? When did he find the time to cook?”
“I don’t have any idea,” Grace said. “I take it we’re going to the office supply store now to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Clifton.”
“We could do that, or we could always go talk to Theodore Reed. It’s your call, but we need to talk to all three of them this afternoon.”
“Let’s talk to Theo first,” Grace said. “After that, we might have to divide and conquer the married couple. You know, I never understood why anyone would have an affair. If you aren’t happy with your partner, just leave them and start fresh with someone else.” I must have given something away by my chilly expression, because Grace quickly added, “Suzanne, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t talking about you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I wanted to ask Max the same question, but I never managed to get around to it. I was just too angry with him, I guess. Trust me, if I’d known he was fooling around with Darlene, I would have ended it immediately. In a way, I suppose that I did. The second I caught them together, I started divorce proceedings.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up the past,” she said, apologizing again.
I patted her hand and did my best to smile. “My past brought me to where I am today, and that’s with the man I love. I can’t ask for more than that.”
“How’s Jake doing, by the way?”
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br /> “He’s got problems of his own,” I said, not really wanting to get into the drama with Paul at the moment. “How should we tackle Theodore? Should we approach him as inquiring amateur sleuths, or would you like to invent a cover story to spice it up a little?”
Grace lit up at the suggestion. “Let’s come up with something fun. I can be a bank examiner and you can be a federal agent.”
“That’s a little complicated, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” she said with a frown. “I know. We can be reporters again. I love when we do that.”
“I’m okay with that,” I said. We’d used the ruse in past investigations, and I knew how much Grace liked pretending to be other people. “Do you think he’ll talk to us if he thinks we’re writing a story about his brother?”
“Maybe not,” she said, vetoing the idea just as I was getting myself in character. “We could always say that we owe Simon money. From what we’ve heard, Theodore seems to be driven that way.”
“I don’t know about you, but my wallet’s pretty bare at the moment.” That was true of just about every moment, so now wasn’t all that much out of the ordinary.
“We don’t have to say how much we owe him,” Grace said. “Would twenty do it?”
“If Theodore answers our questions, I’d be willing to chip in ten myself.”
“No, this one’s on me. Consider it my treat, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Then I won’t object,” I said with a grin.
“It appears that his office is in a strip mall,” I said as I pulled into the place Grace directed me to park. She’d used her phone to look up the address and then a mapping program to lead us there. I had to say, the office was less than impressive.
“These things spawn overnight, don’t they?” Grace asked me.
“Not only that, but the businesses seem to change from month to month. I wonder what the investment firm office will be in six months?”
“My guess is it will either be a chiropractor’s office or a frozen yogurt place,” she said. “Care to make a wager?”
“Maybe we’re selling Theodore Reed short. He might be really good at what he does.”
“Maybe, but would he still be here if he were?” she asked me.
“That’s a good point,” I said. “Let’s go have ourselves a chat with Simon’s brother.”
“I’m right behind you. Should I take the lead, or would you like to?”
I usually liked leading the questioning in our investigations, but I also realized that Grace loved playing a role herself. She’d missed her calling, but I was glad she wasn’t a professional con artist. “You can do it.”
“Oh goody,” she said as she rubbed her hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
“Don’t forget why we’re doing this,” I reminded her gently.
“There’s nothing that says we can’t have a little fun too, is there?”
“Not that I know of,” I admitted.
“Then let’s go.”
Theo Reed had tried to make his office look impressive, outfitting it with quartersawn oak furniture and fancy accessories, but ultimately it was still a small rental space in a strip mall, something he couldn’t easily disguise. The man himself was balding prematurely, and he’d developed a bit of a potbelly that he tried unsuccessfully to conceal with a three-piece suit. Looking up from his desk, he said, “Welcome, ladies. I’m sorry. Did you have an appointment?”
“No. We thought we’d just pop in on you,” Grace said.
Before she could get into her story, he shuffled some paperwork on his desk and frowned. “I have a tight schedule, but I may be able to carve out a few minutes for you.”
His plans for the day probably included doing the crossword puzzle, but I thought it was impolite to point that out. “Thanks so much,” I said.
“No worries. Now, how much are you thinking about investing? I must tell you that the market is hot right now, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to hold on, so the sooner we can get started on building your portfolios, the more you’ll make in the long run.”
“You sound so certain,” I said, getting off track from our original intent. It was just that he sounded so confident about something that I knew could be quite volatile. “How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve been doing this a very long time,” he said, “and I’ve trained with some of the brightest investment minds in the country.”
I looked around but couldn’t see a single diploma. “Who exactly have you studied with?”
“Does the name Barrington Kraft ring a bell?” he asked.
“Do you actually know him?” Grace asked, clearly as skeptical as I was that this man ever worked with one of the best investors alive.
“No, not personally, but I have worked with one of his former employees, which is just as good as sitting at the feet of the master himself,” he said.
For all we knew, Kraft’s former employee could have been his gardener, but we were heading in the wrong direction.
“We’re getting off track. You see, we’re not here to invest,” I said.
Grace looked at me oddly, and I realized that I had just done to her what she often did to me. I’d stepped in when she was in charge. She didn’t seem too pleased being on the other end of it, and I could clearly relate to the feeling.
“We need to discuss your brother with you,” Grace said.
Theodore shut down as quickly as if a switch had just been thrown. “I have no desire to discuss that situation with anyone. You’re not reporters, are you? I absolutely detest reporters.”
So, we’d made a good decision to abandon that particular cover for our questions. Grace said, “No. As a matter of fact, we’ve got some money that belongs to Simon. We don’t know who to pay it back to, and we were hoping you could help us.”
Theodore’s mood lightened considerably. “I’ll be glad to relieve you of that burden.”
“Are you the estate’s executor?” Grace asked him.
“I’m his closest living relative,” the investment broker said. “I can assure you that I’ll make sure the money goes to the proper parties involved.”
Probably meaning his own pocket, unless I missed my guess. “I thought you two were estranged,” I said, once again stepping on Grace’s toes. I didn’t seem to be able to help myself. I’d have to be easier on Grace the next time our roles were reversed. It was truly difficult to sit there quietly and watch the investigation unfold in someone else’s hands.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked sharply.
“It’s common knowledge, Theo,” Grace said.
“Actually, I prefer Theodore,” he corrected her primly.
“Theodore it is,” Grace said, never skipping a beat. “There was a money issue between you, correct?”
“That was a long time ago. We put that behind us.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Grace asked.
“Sometime last week, I suppose,” he said rather vaguely. “Now, about that money. How much exactly are we talking about?”
Grace frowned. “I’m still not sure we should just hand it over to you. Honestly, we didn’t expect to find you working today. Aren’t you handling your brother’s arrangements?”
“I had to come into the office for a few important meetings with clients,” he said dismissively. “I’ll be seeing to all of that later.” He glanced at his watch, clearly a knockoff Rolex, and then he added, “I really must insist that we move this along. As you said yourself, I have a great many things to see to today.”
His brusque nature was bothering me. Couldn’t the man garner at least a little bit of sympathy for his dead brother? It was very clear we weren’t getting anything else out of him. “We’ll need a receipt, of c
ourse,” I said.
Grace looked at me oddly, and it took me a moment to realize that she was trying to keep from smiling.
“Of course,” he said. “Will you be writing a check, or paying cash?”
“Oh, it’s cash,” she said as she pulled out a five from her wallet.
“Seriously? You want a receipt for five dollars? Are you certain that’s all you owed my late brother?”
“Actually, it was four dollars and seventy-five cents,” Grace said with a smile. “You don’t happen to have change, do you?”
It was all I could do to keep from laughing as Theodore said, “Sorry.”
“Fine. Keep it,” Grace said as she started to stand.
I stayed put, though.
“Was there something else I could do for you?” he asked me, clearly irritated with both of us that we’d wasted his time.
“The receipt you promised would be nice,” I said, doing my best to look as though I had nowhere else in the world I needed to be.
In an angry hand, he jotted something down on a sheet of legal paper and thrust it across his desk at us. “Thanks for stopping by.”
I carefully picked up the receipt by one edge. “Thank you. Have a nice day. Again, we are sorry for your loss.”
“Okay,” he said.
Once we were outside, Grace started laughing. “I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel when you asked him for a receipt. Nice job jabbing him a little.”
“I didn’t do it out of spite,” I said as I carefully tried to fold the letter with a minimal amount of touching. “I thought his fingerprints might come in handy.”