"You know I was just
kidding," Ricky said when I showed up at his office carrying two bags of
take-out.
"Yeah, but I'm hungry,
you're probably hungry, so here I am." I set the bags down on his desk and
opened mine. "Besides which, I wanted to fill you in on my meeting with
Frank Milano."
I did, while we both ate.
When I finished he commented, "He didn't have to tell you about seeing Ms
Engel."
"I know. He did though,
which keeps him on my list. After all he could be playing it safe. Tell me
before I found out on my own."
"And how would you have
done that?"
I grinned. "My magic
eight ball? Naw, I probably wouldn't have but he doesn't know that. Some people
actually have a healthy respect for a detective's abilities. Even a private
investigator's."
"I have a very healthy
respect for your…abilities," Ricky retorted, waggling his eyebrows.
"Why is it every time I
come here you come on to me," I grumbled.
"Here, at home, every
chance I get. It keeps you on your toes."
"Yeah, yeah." I
crumpled my takeout bag, tossing into his wastebasket. "On that note I'd
better get moving. Call me before you leave?"
He knew why I was asking and
replied, "I will. And if I get home before you do I'll call to let you
know I made it there in one piece."
After a nice, not too
platonic kiss, I left.
I spent the afternoon doing
what needed to be done for my clients. At least those things I could do during
the day. I had a stakeout tonight for one of the clients I'd picked up this
morning. It was sort of déjà vu from a few weeks ago, during the theft case.
The client, a woman this time, was pretty sure one of her employees was making
off with canned and packaged goods from the storeroom of her small mom-and-pop
grocery store and wanted me to follow the guy to see if she was right, and find
out what he did with the stolen property.
Ricky called at five to say
he was heading home, and fifteen minutes later he called again to say he'd made
it. Something I knew because I was just turning onto our street when I saw him
pulling into the garage.
We ate supper, avoiding any
talk about the Engel case. After all, at this point there wasn't much to talk about other than to wonder who
the phantom motorcyclist was. Discussing that would only make him worry about
my going on the stakeout—especially considering what happened to me during the
theft case.
The woman's grocery store
closed at seven—because of the neighborhood it was in, according to her. I
found out what she meant when I arrived there at ten till. It wasn't that the
area was bad, but it had definitely seen better days. There were a couple of
bars across the street from the store, and two empty stores with grated doors
and windows to keep out vandals. There were several apartment buildings that
looked surprisingly well kept up, considering their apparent ages. Sort of like
older men who knew better than to try to dress like teenyboppers.
I parked in the store's lot then
made my way around back. It was just as she'd told me. The store took up a
third of the short alley with a service entrance and a loading dock. Across
from it were darkened doorways to whatever shops were on the next street. I
settled in one and waited. Soon after seven, some of the employees began
leaving by the back entrance. None of them was the guy I was interested in,
even though my client said he always left that way. Then, ten minutes later he
appeared with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He seemed oblivious to his
surrounding as he hurried to the end of the alley and turned left onto the
sidewalk. I stayed a few yards behind him, being careful not to be obvious.
He walked five blocks,
heading into a much more rundown area, and then turned onto another street.
When I got to the corner I saw him enter a ramshackle building with a sign over
the door. I followed him inside and found myself in what looked like a foodbank.
It walls were lined with shelves filled with non-perishable food, with more
shelves going down the center of the room. He approached a table to one side of
the room, set down the backpack and took out the cans and packaged goods it
contained, telling the woman behind the table, "As usual, they're past
their sell-by date but they're still good."
"As always, Danny"
she replied with a smile. "I just wish…"
"If I told them what
I'm doing they'd either fire me or have me arrested," he said quickly.
"If they marked the prices down it would be one thing. Then the people who
don't have much cash could afford them, but…" He sighed. "Anyway,
hopefully I'll have more for you in a couple of days."
Picking up the backpack, he
left. I waited until he was a good block ahead of me, debating whether to have
a few words with him or not. I understood where he was coming from, but it was
still theft as far as my client was concerned. Finally I decided to have a talk
with her first.
Just as I got back to the
car my phone vibrated. The caller ID said it was Ricky so I figured he was just
checking to make sure I hadn't run into any trouble. Boy was I wrong. The
second I answered he said, "Someone tried to break in here."
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