“I’ll make it fast.” Bennie tried to think through her excitement. “Was Linette here the same time as Mayer and St. Amien?”
“Wait. I want to get this right.” Dante paused, thinking. “Yes. Definitely. Mr. Linette came in later and he left later, I think. Mr. Linette likes to have his after-dinner drinks. Always picks a nice malt.”
“He drink a lot last night?”
“Well, yeah. Always. But he doesn’t get sloppy, he’s a classy guy. He holds it pretty good. He’s big.”
Bennie eyed the restaurant layout. “Where did Mayer sit and where did Linette sit? Tell me the exact tables.”
“Like I said, Mr. Mayer was in seven, I mean, that’s the table in my station against the front wall, in the window. In the middle, see?” He pointed.
In the window. So anyone coming into the Palm through the main entrance would see Mayer and St. Amien. Linette had come in later, so he could have seen them in the window.
“And Mr. Linette was at his table in the back,” Dante continued. “Right here.”
Of course. “Near his picture.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Now for a hard question. Do you know if they saw each other? For example, did you see Mayer or St. Amien stop by and say hello to Linette, maybe on their way to the men’s room?”
Dante shook his head. “Men never use the bathroom, only ladies. They’re in there all the time.” He chuckled, then caught himself. “I didn’t see them get together, no. I don’t know if they saw each other, but you can tell the way it is, with the tables.”
Bingo. Bennie eyeballed the location of the tables. “There’s even a divider, that bank of booths that screens the front of the room from the back. You can’t see over that. So if Mayer and St. Amien didn’t go to the bathroom, they probably didn’t see Linette.”
“Right. They’re like separate dining rooms. If you’re sitting at Mr. Linette’s table back here, you don’t see to the front. Mr. Linette likes his table private. He does a lotta his business here. When he wants to party, he hangs at the bar.”
Bennie could barely suppress her excitement. So it was possible that Linette had seen Mayer and Robert last night when he came in. But they hadn’t seen him, because of the booth divider. “How can we find out what Linette ordered last night? Who was the waiter back here?”
“I know what he ordered.” Dante looked anxiously toward the kitchen, but Bennie hadn’t learned everything she needed to know.
“How do you know? You didn’t wait on him. He wasn’t in your station.”
“Don’t matter, he always orders the same thing, every Tuesday and every Thursday. He always says it’s doctor’s orders.”
Bennie’s hopes sank. “What, a salad?”
“No, the prime rib. He likes to joke around, Mr. Linette does.”
So Linette had a knife too.
“You’re not thinkin’ that Mr. Linette killed that dude, because Mr. Linette would never-”
“Shhh.” Bennie put a finger to her lips. “Don’t speculate. Leave these matters to the police.” Not that she would. “Who was the busboy at Linette’s table?”
“Think it was Marky, but he isn’t on tonight. And if you’re gonna ask him if he picked up a knife, he won’t remember. The kid likes the ganja, he don’t remember his name.” Dante’s hand flew to cover his mouth. “Oh, shit. Did I just get him in-”
“No, I’ll keep it to myself. You do the same.” Bennie placed an ersatz-official arm on his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone we spoke, and say no to drugs. Thanks for the help, and sorry to have kept you. You can get back to work now.”
“Thanks, Officer,” Dante said, and he practically bolted toward the kitchen, leaving Bennie with a promotion.
And a painted picture of a toothy Bill Linette.
Bennie and Sam chugged along, walking down the crowded sidewalk toward her office. She slipped her Ray-Bans on in case any stray reporter was out there, and also to continue her strategy of differentiating her appearance from Alice’s. Also she was carrying her doggie bag. Take that, Alice!
“So he’s behind us?” Sam asked as they walked. He had his navy blazer hooked on his index finger and thrown over his shoulder. “He’s following us? David Hottie?”
Bennie smiled. “Holland. Keep your eyes front and don’t look back.”
“This feels strange. Having him following us.”
“No stranger than having her follow us.”
“She’s following us, too? Christ, we’re a parade!”
“Really.” They turned onto Locust, toward Bennie’s office. Sam was going to drop her off, then go on to Grun. She checked her watch. Half past one. She had her meeting at two. She scanned the bypassers reflexively for Alice, then breathed a relieved sigh. She didn’t have to be so worried anymore with every step. “I feel better knowing that he’s watching.”
“But he’s so big, how can he blend in?”
“He’s a master of disguise. He even has a witch hat.”
Sam looked over. “Be serious.”
“He knows stuff.”
“He’s a soldier, not a spy.”
Basically the same thing. “He has common sense, doesn’t he? He hangs back, changes his appearance slightly day to day, and he makes it work. You don’t need a surveillance degree to follow somebody around. Besides, Alice isn’t expecting this. She might expect me to hire a uniformed security guard, but she wouldn’t expect this. And she doesn’t know David. She won’t be looking for him to be following her following me.”
“Huh?”
“See? It’s too confusing.”
They passed some office buildings a block from Bennie’s. The breeze was coolish and pleasantly free of humidity, and the foot traffic dying down. It reminded Bennie of the day she had walked back to her office with Robert, only to get arrested in front of him. She couldn’t believe that he was dead. Whoever had killed him wasn’t playing games. She stopped in her tracks and turned to Sam.
“Sam, the truth is that beggars can’t be choosers. I know that the plan isn’t perfect, but it’s the only one I have. And it won’t last forever. I think it will only take a few days. She’ll show her hand very soon, and we’ll get her.”
Sam inhaled. “But it’s like using you as bait.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Yes it is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Got you last,” Bennie said. She wasn’t about to admit as much to Sam, but she had thought of that.
25
Mort Abrams,” the young man said, shaking Bennie’s hand with assurance. He was younger than she had expected, about her own age, with a friendly array of crow’s-feet at the corners of his light brown eyes. He was short, with brown hair brushed neatly to the side, and he was dressed business casual in a forest green Lacoste shirt and charcoal Dockers. “Pleased to meet you in person, Bennie,” he said as they shook hands.
“My, in person.” Bennie laughed and gestured to introduce the remaining associates. DiNunzio had left for Washington, and the boss was experiencing an uncharacteristic pang of maternal concern. But she still had two baby birds left, and this case was big enough to need them both. “Mort, these are my associates, Judy Carrier and Anne Murphy.”
“Great to meet you,” he said, shaking each one’s hand, more stiffly than Robert had and with less charm. Bennie knew the associates would be remembering Robert, too; that was why she had scheduled the meeting in the large conference room. The windows lining the north wall filled the place with bright natural light.
“Good to see you,” Carrier said, lifting her chin gamely as she sat down in her denim smock and white T-shirt, and Murphy extended her hand over the table.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, more quietly than usual, and sat down. She wore her favorite black knit dress, sadly appropriate for today. Bennie decided not to ignore the subject.