LITMIR.BIZ

      It was nearly lunchtime, so I turned south and headed in the direction of Pass-a-Grille. I could check out Salvatore’s, touch base in with Gigi, and get a damn fine lunch all at the same time.

      Gulf Boulevard runs along the beach the whole way, and it’s a fun drive. You can’t see the water, hidden behind of the line of condos and hotels, but there are always groups of tourists crossing back and forth, and the general atmosphere is festive. I like it because it’s a reminder that I live someplace special.

      When I pulled into the parking lot, there were only a couple of cars. It was still early yet, and the lunch rush wasn’t due for another hour at least. I sat there for a few minutes and looked at the restaurant, letting my mind wander down memory lane. God, I spent a lot of nights in that place. Not in a long time, though. Finally, I pulled myself together, climbed out of the car and headed for the door.

      The outside was pretty much the same as it looked when they built it, but inside there was new furniture and the decor had been updated to match. Salvatore’s had a reputation for being classy but comfortable, and Gigi kept with that theme. The walls were painted a rich gold, and the carpet had been replaced with gleaming dark wood.

      The bar was my favorite part. It was along the side, halfway back, between the two dining rooms, and aside from new stools, it looked like it always did. At the end of it was a set of sliding glass doors leading out to the patio in back, and another section of bar if you preferred to have your drinks alfresco.

      I took a seat inside and flagged down the bartender. When he came over, I ordered a beer and said, “Can you tell Ms. Sapora that Dino’s here to see her?”

      He poured my beer and passed along the message to a waiter who disappeared into the back area of the restaurant.

      A few minutes later, Gigi came out looking poised and professional as usual. Aside from the hairstyles and the furniture, it was like I’d gone back ten years. Part of me missed it. I stood up to give her a hug as she approached. “Hey, how’re you doin’ today?” I asked.

      “I’m better,” she said, nodding. “It feels good to be doing something about it. Where do you want to start?”

      “Let’s sit down and talk. Maybe out on the deck so we have a little privacy. Besides, I could use some lunch.”

      She smiled. “Should I bring a menu?”

      “Do you still do a good pasta pomodoro?”

      “Always have.”

      “Then, no, I don’t need a menu.”

      She caught a waiter and gave him the order and told him she’d be in a meeting for a while, then led me out to the deck. We sat down in the shade, where a large ceiling fan slowly churned out a light breeze overhead. It was warm, but not oppressively humid, and there was a fair amount of activity on the waterway which runs between all the islands and peninsulas that make up the area. Across the channel were strings of houses on Vina del Mar, and beyond that, Tierra Verde.

      “Okay, first of all,” I said, “I went up to the courthouse this morning to do a little background work, and I found out I’m not the only one. About a month ago, someone else was digging into the public records of Salvatore’s. Do you know anything about that?”

      Gigi looked surprised. “No. There’s nothing we’re involved with that would give anyone reason to do that.”

      “Might be nothing,” I said. “They’re public for a reason. But it’s the timing that’s got my interest. That fits pretty well with the start of your problems, doesn’t it?”

      “The false reports were about six weeks ago, so yes, I’d say it does.”

      “Great. That’s good news,” I said, taking a sip of my beer.

      “Good? How so?”

      “Because it points to Salvatore’s being the target here, not you.”

      “What about the car that’s following me?”

      “You’re the owner. If someone’s going after the restaurant, it stands to reason they’re gonna be interested in you too. I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t be careful, or that you’re not in danger, but I don’t think we’re talking about a stalker or anything like that.”

      “I’m still in danger, but this is good news?” She looked irritated.

      “That’s not what I said, and you know it. My point is if someone was going after you specifically, we’d probably be dealing with some nut job and that would be a real problem. On the other hand, there are a lot of non-psychotic reasons to try to take down a business, and we can deal with those.”

      She made all the right noises of agreement, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it yet. Salvatore’s was her home, and she didn’t see the distinction I did.

      The waiter came out with our pasta and a basket of bread, and we spent a couple of minutes eating in silence. Finally, Gigi spoke. “I take it you weren’t able to find out who was looking at the records, or who might have filed the complaints?”

      “Sorry, no. They don’t give that stuff out to the average Joe. I got some other information on things requested that day, but I don’t know if it’ll help.”

      She sighed. “It’s more than I had yesterday.”

      “Trust me, it always seems like you’re floundering around in the beginning.”

      “I remember. I hope for my sake you’re still as dedicated as you were back then.”

      It was my turn to sigh, because this had been a point of contention between us. My job was a big part of our break up, and the reason why I hadn’t been too eager for a serious relationship afterward. “Ah. Yeah, I am actually.”

      She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

      The pasta was delicious and I told her so while I mopped up garlic and tomato juice with a chunk of bread. That seemed to break the awkwardness. The waiter came to clear the plates away, and I took a notepad out of my briefcase.

      “I want to go over each of the strange events with you more closely,” I said. “Give me as much detail as possible, and see if you can’t remember anything else odd, even if it didn’t seem odd at the time. We’ll try to build a timeline and see if there are any patterns.”

      We spent about an hour working out a list, and by the time we were done, Gigi was practically spitting tacks. If it weren’t such a serious situation, it might have been kind of

Скачать книгу