I couldn’t believe he still used that stupid phrase. Of course, he probably hadn’t expected an old friend to be hiding just behind the very thin door of that pantry when he uttered those words.
I had no doubt Ian had been looking for the five-thousand-dollar check I’d found and now I was absolutely certain Enrico had been blackmailing him. But why? What had Ian done to make himself vulnerable to someone like Enrico Baldacchio?
I really couldn’t see Ian being a killer. From what I’d heard from inside the pantry closet, Ian had literally stumbled onto Enrico’s body, then torn out of the house as if he’d seen a ghost.
The bad news was, Minka couldn’t have killed Enrico, either. Unless she was an extremely good actress, I seriously doubted her ability to shoot the man in cold blood, drive away, then return a while later, shouting his name like the aforementioned fishwife. Even I was forced to admit she wasn’t that stupid.
So who killed Enrico Baldacchio?
I was suddenly paranoid about walking around this part of town, so I found an old Giants cap in my glove box, wrapped my hair up and shoved it under the cap. I climbed out of the car and met Derek on the busy sidewalk. This section of California Street in the Richmond District catered to the wealthy residents of Sea Cliff. There were boutiques, a cheese shop, a butcher, two bakeries and several chic restaurants.
Derek looked at my cap and nodded in approval, but call me surprised when he put his arm around my shoulder and hauled me in close.
“We’ll call the police from that petrol station,” he said, discreetly pointing out the ARCO station across the street as we walked.
“They’ll probably have a pay phone inside the restaurant,” I said.
“Not a good idea,” he said, nuzzling my neck.
“Oh, right.” I could barely think. “Uh, because they’ll trace the call.”
“They don’t have to trace anything. The location pops up on the screen as soon as the dispatcher picks up the call.”
“Ah. Good to know.” Why didn’t I know that? Maybe because I’d just embarked on this new life of crime and still didn’t know all the ropes.
Derek whispered, “We’ll order something first, then call.”
It seemed wrong to put off the call. Maybe not wrong, exactly, but calculated certainly. Enrico was dead and probably wouldn’t care, but it made me feel callous somehow to allow his body to lie there on the carpet, alone, ignored, while I ordered lunch.
Then again, I didn’t want to be connected to his death any more than I already was. Derek was helping me set up a firewall, so to speak. I should be grateful.
My eyes widened as his jaw brushed my chin. I inhaled deeply and caught the scent of his skin. I wasn’t complaining, but what was going on here? Had all the danger and excitement gotten to him?
I guess it had gotten to me, too, because I stared up at him and my mouth went dry. My appetite for food was history and trust me, that never happens.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “I’m not going to faint, you know.”
“I didn’t think you were,” he said quietly in my ear.
I trembled from the breathy contact. “Then what’s going on here?”
He bent his head to gaze at me. “We’re pretending to be completely enamored, of course. If the police think to interview anyone around here, they’ll vaguely recall seeing a couple in love walking down the street. They won’t be able to describe a gorgeous blonde and the handsome buck by her side.”
I took a few seconds to appreciate the gorgeous blonde comment. Then I slugged him. “You’re truly a jerk.”
He laughed and hugged me tighter. “I love it when you call me names.”
I smiled and touched his cheek. “In that case, you’re a complete ass.”
“Mmm. Music to my ears.”
I grabbed his lapel and whispered, “For a cop, you know a lot about larcenous behavior.”
“It’s part of the training.”
“I think you live closer to the edge than you let on.”
He gave me an innocent smile before pulling the restaurant door open and pushing me inside.
“I need a drink,” I said, breaking away from him.
“Fat chance of finding alcohol in a vegetarian restaurant,” he complained.
“Hey, vegetarians drink wine,” I insisted, taking off my jacket as we passed through the foyer. “It’s like the staff of life or something.”
“Isn’t that bread?”
“Whatever.”
Despite the sunny day outside, the restaurant was as dark as a cave, its walls and ceiling lined in thick redwood panels. The darkness suited my mood.
“Ah, delightful,” he said, and led me to the fully stocked bar that ran the length of the room on the far side. We grabbed two stools and sat, the only two customers in the bar.
I studied the wine list and finally decided on a glass of the 2004 Concannon Petite Syrah. Derek ordered a very dry Belvedere martini with a lemon twist, shaken, not stirred. Why was I not surprised?
We didn’t speak until our drinks were served. As soon as the bartender walked away, I turned to Derek. “Maybe Minka already called the police. Don’t you think we should lie low for a while?”
“Lie low?” he said with a smirk. “Now who’s living on the edge?”
“It was just a thought.”
Derek took one sip of his martini, then said, “From everything I’ve heard about this Minka, we oughtn’t depend on her to do the right thing.”
“Good point.”
He pushed his barstool away and stood. “I’ll go make the call.”
I grabbed his arm. “No, I’ll make the call.”
“It’s no problem.” He tapped his head. “I know the number. Nine-one-one. See?”
“Very funny,” I said. “Don’t you think it should be an anonymous phone call?”
“It will be.”
“Not if you make it,” I said. “When Inspector Jaglow plays the dispatcher’s tape back and hears a distinguished British accent, he’ll know it’s you.”
Derek smiled crookedly and patted his chest. “I’m touched you think I’m distinguished.”
“I didn’t say you were… Oh, never mind.”
“I won’t be long.” He started to walk away.
“You stay right here.” I jumped off my stool. “All you need to do is open your mouth and they’ll know it’s you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of disguising my voice,” he said imperiously.
“Right, Double-O.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Shaken, not stirred. Give me a break.”
He pulled me back. “All right, listen. I’m not calling anonymously. I’m telling Jaglow I overheard your conversation with Baldacchio and went to see him before you got there. I found the body.”
“Oh.” That made sense. “But what about me?”
“What about you?”
“Are you going to tell him I was there?”
He pierced me with a look. “Are you going to do everything I tell you to do from now on?”
“Probably not.”
His lips twisted. “Then I’ll have to think about it.”
“That’s blackmail.”
He grinned. “Such an ugly word, but yes.”
“All right, all right. Just go.” As I watched him walk away, I realized I didn’t care whether the police knew I’d been there. The most important thing right now was that they took care of Enrico and tracked down Abraham’s killer.
As soon as Derek came back, he said, “It’s best if you go back to work this afternoon.”
I took a hearty gulp of wine. “As though nothing happened?”
“Exactly,” he said as he paid the bill.
“I’m not sure I can lie about this.”
“I’m well aware of your status as the world’s worst liar,” he said. “And I know you had nothing to do with his death. But if the police find your fingerprints, it could make things difficult. Are you prepared to deal with it?”
As I pushed the barstool back I thought about it. “I know I’m innocent so I’ll deal with it. I just want the police to find this killer before he strikes again.”