Quint figured his strategy of staying away from the restaurant had worked. He was beginning to question whether this establishment was the center for crime the informant had made it out to be, though. The information had come from a credible source, so he was surprised nothing had turned up so far. Then again, his luck might just be about to change.
Coffee in hand, he headed over to the restaurant at 9:00 a.m. as Charley had requested in their text exchange last night before bed. Leaving the cabin while Ree slept had him slipping out the door quietly. The second thing on his mind this morning was her single relationship status. It wasn’t any of Quint’s business, but he’d asked the question anyway. Then again, maybe that was where she drew the line between work and relationships.
Work was work. Home was home. Quint had a similar philosophy. His went more like he didn’t work where he lived. In a job such as theirs, it was easy to blur the lines. Good for her if she’d made the division this early in her career. Becoming best friends with his partner had taken away his objectivity about her. If the two of them hadn’t been so personal with each other, Tessa would be holding her baby in her arms right now instead of being buried with her.
The dark thought soured Quint’s mood as he opened the front door of Greenlight. He walked inside, shouting a hello. The doors to the kitchen were propped open. Charley appeared, waving Quint back.
“Thank you for coming. Lorenzo is still embarrassed all you had to do was plug in a cord. He did nothing but sing your praises.” Charley offered a firm handshake. Quint took note of the man’s cold and clammy hand. Was he nervous?
“I don’t know about that,” Quint stated. “I’m still a work in progress on that front but I’d much rather learn how a computer works than move another one.”
Charley laughed at the joke. Good. The trick to working with a creep was to focus on their good qualities and they always had some. Quint had once had to get close to a man who’d murdered his own mother. But the guy loved his fourteen-year-old kid, who was in juvie at the time. So much so, in fact, that the murderer was willing to roll over on a drug operation in exchange for a lenient sentence for his boy. No one was either all good or all bad. Quint had learned to concentrate on the good.
“My books are a mess and my inventory is based on what’s in here.” He pointed to his head. “I’ve been told there is a way to automate all this so I’m not doing manual counts. Have you heard of any of this?”
“There are accounting software programs for small businesses that should help with the books,” Quint stated. “I hear some even link up to inventory and can place orders for you when stock is down based on what dishes are being sold. But I’m not sure if that is too complicated for what you’re looking for.”
“I like the idea of help with the books. What about starting there?” Charley asked.
“Fine,” Quint said. He was surprised Charley would give access to his books to anyone outside the company, but Lorenzo’s endorsement seemed to go a long way.
“How should we go about this?” Charley asked, then said, “First things first, I’d like for you to take a look at how I’m set up now and see what you can improve on.”
“Sounds like as good a place as any to start,” he said. “I have a ten-thirty class, which gives me an hour or so to get the lay of the land.”
Being too available could raise a red flag, Quint knew from experience. Seeming too eager could raise another one. Patience won every time.
Charley’s eyes widened for a second in surprise, but then he nodded. “You could come back at any time. Set your own schedule.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have to do a bit of research to figure out which program would be best. I can also ask one of my professors.” Quint added the last part for effect.
Charley kept nodding. He seemed to like what he was hearing.
“I’d like to pay you something for your efforts,” Charley said. “Not sure what the going rate is.”
“You’re keeping my wife employed,” Quint countered.
“Still. If you do work for me then you should get paid,” Charley said.
“Since I’m still in training, how about you pay me with dinners on the house?” he asked, motioning toward his stool from the other night. “Then, I get to see my bride while I eat.”
“Dinner’s the least I can do,” Charley said. “But we’ll start there.”
“I’ve already had a few meals from here. Believe me when I say I’m on the good side of this deal.” Quint winked.
The smile on Charley’s face said he was proud of his restaurant’s reputation for good food. Interesting, though, because while he seemed to care about Greenlight, he was also risking his business by running guns out the back. Or was this being done right underneath his nose? Fender, the expeditor, came to mind. Or it could be a supplier. Or both. Phillip was another mystery.
However, Charley was no saint. The question was whether or not he was involved in other crimes that were feeding into a bigger crime ring.
“Follow me.” Charley walked to a small office in front of the breakroom on the left-hand side of the kitchen. It wasn’t much bigger than a good-sized closet. A custom-fitted desk with stacks of paperwork on top gave the place a distinctly cluttered feel. There was literally something on every surface, which didn’t give him a whole lot of confidence the man’s computer desktop was any better.
Quint’s house was a complete contrast to this. Some folks might call his decor minimalist, but he didn’t collect more than he could use at the time. When he was done with something, he donated it, pitched it, or gave it away.
He cracked his knuckles and looked toward Quint. “No time like the present to get started.”
Charley grabbed a piece of paper and tore off a corner. He shuffled a few stacks of papers before locating a pen. “Here are the passwords you’ll need.” He scribbled a few down and Quint could only hope he could read the handwriting. “Ignore all the curse words. This is what happens when a place keeps kicking back my attempts.”
That made Quint laugh.
“I’ll be back but you have my phone number if you need anything,” Charley said.
“Sounds good. I’ll play around in here. See what can be optimized and what can be eliminated,” he said. This very well could be a test to see if he could be trusted alone at the restaurant. So Quint would play it cool. In all this clutter, there could be a tiny camera or listening device planted somewhere. Today meant taking a huge step in this case. Cool was the only way to play it. “We can start with the basics.”
“Like making sure you have all the right utensils before you start cooking?” Charley surmised.
“Basically, but more like making sure we have a building with a fridge, ovens, etc. before we open our restaurant,” Quint explained.
Charley seemed to take to the line of thinking. His grin was wide, and he kept nodding. “I never looked at the computer like that before. It helps me understand its usefulness when you put it like that.”
“Score one for technology,” Quint said, trying to capitalize on the light mood.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Charley said. The vibes with this guy were mixed. The intel versus what they were witnessing didn’t add up. The expectation he ran a hardcore criminal operation out the back door didn’t seem to be panning out.
Quint nodded before taking a seat and grabbing the scrap of paper. The passwords were the best part. There was quite an education in creative cussing built into those.
Maybe he could finally dig around enough to either find something on this guy or think about moving on from this investigation and calling it a bust. The system booted up fine. Much like the small office Quint was in, the computer’s desktop was a cluttered mess. Icons littered the screen. At least the guy had a PC instead of a Mac, so the icons were on a grid. That made it a little bit easier to make sense of them.
First things first: no one needed this much disarray on a desktop. Before Quint could rearrange the icons and clean it up, he needed to figure out which ones were actually being used and also useful for Charley.
Quint made a show of studying the screen. He nodded his head a few times in case there were cameras. Based on what he saw with the desktop, no one around here knew what they were doing with technology.
The first thing he did, though, was uninstall the virus protection software. Next, he built a custom firewall. By the time he finished, his “class” would be starting in fifteen minutes. He located a sticky note pad and a pen, and then jotted down the two changes he’d made before sticking the yellow square on the bottom of the screen. He also opened a new spreadsheet, saved the file to the desktop and recorded the date along with his actions for future reference. He glanced at the payroll versus the schedule and noted the barmaids were paid under the table.
It was too early to install spy software. He needed to get a better lay of the land first. That was okay. This was progress.
And now he needed to get home to update his “wife” on his progress. His heart skipped a couple of beats thinking about her and how beautiful she was with her long silky waves spilled across the pillow.
Quint gave himself a mental headshake to clear the sexy, sleepy image of Ree as he walked out into the sun and toward the cabin.
REE FIXED A BAGEL. There was cream cheese and jelly, her favorites. She slathered them both on as soon as her bagel popped out of the toaster, and then poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She didn’t mind doing these things for herself, so it must just be Quint’s presence that she missed.
Shaking off the thought, she moved to the table and checked her phone. No messages from Quint.
The door opened, and she was a little happier than she should be that Quint was back. He immediately closed and locked the door before toeing off one boot. He unstrapped himself from the other at the door, leaving them both beside the door.
“Good morning,” she said as he turned around to face her.
He took two steps forward before his gaze dropped to her plate. His face momentarily lost all color. “I thought you liked eggs.”
“Thought I’d change it up today,” she said, unsure why he would care about her breakfast.
“Okay,” was all he said before heading over to the coffee machine. He poured a cup as she sat there, dumbfounded.
“Could you explain to me what just happened?” she asked, not ready to let him off the hook.
He shook his head as he turned around and then leaned his hip against the counter. “I had a good meeting with Charley this morning.”
Apparently, they were changing the subject.
“What about his computer? Did you get anything to work with there?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’m getting the lay of the land first,” he said. “But I do have a sense of how the man works. Disorganized.”
“Not when it comes to his restaurant,” she said. “The walk-in freezer has to be organized a particular way. Same goes for the fridges.”
“Isn’t that Lorenzo’s domain?” he asked.
“Yes, but I get the impression Charley would have a fit if everything wasn’t just so,” she said. “He checks everything despite having what appears to be full trust in Chef.” She flashed eyes at him. “Lorenzo.”
“Charley’s office and desktop are the complete opposite,” he stated. “So that’s interesting. It signals a person who cares about the details of his business. In my experience those folks aren’t usually criminals, so it will be interesting to see how this all plays out. Also, the barmaids are not on payroll.”
“Oh. Really? Other than dating new-hire waitresses, I agree with everything you’ve said about Charley, Quint.” She picked up the bagel, took a bite and then chewed.
Quint took a sip of his coffee.
“I haven’t seen any trucks out back that look like they could be carrying in weapons. We’re at square one, but it’s still early. I’m gaining trust. I might be able to install spyware tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Is that the schedule?” she asked. “Are you going back every morning?”
“That’s what we agreed on so far,” he said. She couldn’t pinpoint the difference but there was a subtle change in Quint. Was this always the case when he went deeper undercover? She wanted to ask but figured this wasn’t the time. Not when she was picking up on a strange vibe from him.
“Do you want a bagel?” she offered, trying to find some middle ground.
“No. And I’d prefer if you didn’t make yours that way but I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Do you mind telling me what about my breakfast has offended you to this degree?” Or was it just her in general he seemed offended by?
“You can eat whatever you want. I’d just prefer not to watch.” He walked over to the sofa, set down his coffee and grabbed his laptop.
“If you didn’t want me to eat this...why did you buy all the ingredients?” she asked, frustration making her unable to let it go.
She should be able to get past it but she couldn’t. He studied the screen without looking up at her.
“Are you serious right now?” she asked. “You’re not talking to me?”
When Quint brought his gaze up to her it was like all hell came up with him. “If you must know, that was Tessa’s favorite breakfast. I bought those ingredients separately, not thinking anyone else ate like her. My bad.”
“I had no idea,” she said, refusing to feel bad for something she didn’t know would be a trigger. This was what it would be like to live with a ghost.