Tim dropped me at my apartment and went home to get ready for work. It was the start of his evening shift rotation, and he had to go in at three. Delbert wasn’t speaking to me, and in fact, wouldn’t come out from under my bed where he was holed up, so it wasn’t nearly as much fun being at home as I’d thought it was going to be.
I spent the afternoon putzing around, walking from room to room, trying to get interested in the newspaper or a movie or a book. Nothing worked. I finally turned on some music and plopped down on my ratty sofa. I must have dozed off, because about two hours slipped by without me noticing them. I went to my kitchen and sucked down a couple of glasses of water, dumped a can of the Kitty Glop into Delbert’s bowl, and studied my nearly empty refrigerator, trying to figure out what I was going to have for supper.
Charli called just as I’d resigned myself to a peanut butter and olive sandwich. “Wanna come over and eat supper with me? The kids left for the beach and I’m lonely.”
I stuck the olive jar back in the fridge. “Sure. Oh, crap. I just remembered. My car is at your house.”
“I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Albertino’s and eat. My treat.”
Yum. Albertino’s is the best restaurant in town. Even without the potato soup. “Ready in fifteen minutes.”
Since Albertino’s is so upscale I wore a denim skirt, a t-shirt without a logo, and my black Aerosoles instead of my usual tennis shoes. Charli, as always, was dressed to the teeth in a gorgeous purple linen dress. I felt like her poor country relation, which, in a way, I guess I am.
While we were driving to the restaurant I told Charli about overhearing Art and Robby. “I think one of them or Sam killed Frank,” I told her. “And I think it has to do with whatever the four of them were up to. If we can find out maybe it will give the police a new place to focus their investigation and I’ll be in the clear.”
Charli was excited, as I knew she would be. She’s really into mysteries, reads them all the time, and fancies herself quite the sleuth. “We need to change clothes,” she said. “Wear dark stuff so we blend in. Let’s see, we’ll need rope, a little hammer, and a couple of flashlights.”
“What do we need a hammer and rope for?”
Charli rolled her eyes at me. “The hammer’s in case we need to break something. You know, like a window. Oh! And we’ll need tape. That’s how you keep it from making noise, you know. You put tape over the glass and then when you tap it to break the window it all sticks together and doesn’t make noise.”
“What kind of tape?” I don’t read many mystery novels, so I hoped that Charli knew what she was talking about.
She glanced over at me. “Duct tape. Get my notebook out of my purse and write all this down. I don’t want to forget anything.”
The restaurant parking lot was full so Charli had to park around back. I recognized the black BMW next to the spot she selected and a thrill went over me. So, I’d get to see Kyle again. He was sitting at a table in the bar area with, surprise of surprises, Herb, and another man who looked vaguely familiar. His back was to me and the three of them were deep in conversation so, even though I waved and carried on, he didn’t see me come in.
Albertino’s is way, way up the food chain from Pilazzo’s. It’s one of those white-linen-tablecloth-and-water-goblets-at-every-place-setting sort of restaurants. It practically screams expensive with its understated elegance, atmospheric lighting, and classy décor. The tuxedoed maitre’d led us down a short hallway to the dining room and directed us to a table in the back right next to Dicey and Robby.
“Well hey, y’all,” Dicey said, rather loudly, “why don’t y’all come on and join us?”
One look at Robby told me that he wasn’t in the mood for company, so I declined for us. We chatted with them briefly, just enough to be sociable. Well, with Dicey, anyway – Robby just scowled at us, didn’t say so much as ‘boo’ - and then we seated ourselves at the table we’d been assigned.
While we checked out the menu, I couldn’t help but overhear Dicey and Robby’s dinner conversation. I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but they were talking so loud that John probably heard them all the way over in Japan.
At first, they were just talking about normal everyday stuff, (if murder of your neighbor is ‘everyday stuff’, that is) but within minutes, things grew ugly. Their argument started out about money and then, to the embarrassment of anyone in hearing distance, which was pretty much everyone in the restaurant, turned into a down and dirty fight about sex.
Something else seemed to be going on too, something they’d evidently argued about before, but whatever the problem was, neither one of them ever came right out and named it. Their waiter rushed over and spoke to them. They both stopped yelling and looked around rather sheepishly. At least Robby did. Dicey slumped down in her seat and chug-a-lugged a glass of red wine.
After the waiter shushed them, he turned to our table, apologized for the disturbance, and asked if we were ready to order. Charli stammered out that, really, we hadn’t been bothered at all and then gave him her order, a broiled salmon filet with rice pilaf and fresh green beans. I followed her lead, told the waiter not to worry about it, that we hadn’t even noticed anything out of the ordinary, then, since Charli was paying, ordered two shrimp cocktails, their biggest filet mignon, and a Heineken.
As I ate my shrimp, I watched Robby and Dicey. He kept glancing at his watch and fidgeting like a child. Dicey had evidently consumed the majority of the bottle of Merlot they had on their table because she was a little glassy-eyed and didn’t seem to notice his behavior. Something he said set her off again, but this time they kept their voices too low for anyone (me) to hear what they were arguing about.
About halfway through my Tiramisu and coffee, the two of them stood to leave. Robby wound his arm tightly around Dicey’s waist and she leaned heavily against him. I think he was going to just leave, but she insisted on stopping by our table and saying good night.
“Bye, gals,” she slurred. “See you tomorrow, Marty. We’ve got to be down to the police station at two. I’ll pick you up one-firty, ‘kay?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be ready. I’m so looking forward to it.” Sarcasm is good for the soul.
Dicey slapped Robby on the rear end and gave us an exaggerated wink. “Okay, then, see you tomorrow. Right now, we’ve got to run. Robby here wants to go on home and play doctor. Don’t you, sugah?”
Robby clenched his teeth. “Dicey,” he warned.
She let out a loud cackle and stumbled off. As they left I heard him say that he’d already told her he had to meet somebody at ten and that he was sorry, but she’d just have to wait up for him if she wanted to fool around. She stumbled again, almost falling on a woman at another table.
Something inside me screamed out a warning, but I tried to shake it off. It wouldn’t leave, though, just kept tickling around in my head. Was my lawyer an alcoholic? I stewed about it, rolling it over and over in my mind.
“Does she drink much?” I finally broke down and asked Charli.
“Not that I’ve noticed. But then again, now that I think about it, she had three drinks the other day at lunch. She’s never done that before.” Charli picked up her tea glass and gestured with it. “Usually when we get together she drinks iced tea too.”
“I hope she’s sober when I go in for my interview tomorrow.” I gulped down the rest of my dessert.
“I hope so too,” Charli said. She sipped her coffee — she wasn’t having dessert, too many calories, she’d said — and watched me eat.
When I’d consumed every last crumb of the delicious treat I excused myself to the ladies room. As I made my way back to our table I literally bumped into Kyle. I was preoccupied, fretting over Dicey’s drinking and our upcoming spying mission, and practically flattened him.
“Whoa,” he said. “Sorry about that, ma’am. My mind was elsewhere.” He gently pushed me away from him and a look of surprise crossed his face. “Marty! It’s great to see you.”
He looked so handsome in his expensive suit that I wished for a second or two that I had on a pretty dress like Charli’s. I tugged at my skirt and fought the urge to scratch myself.
“Hi, Kyle. Sorry about the collision. It was all my fault. As usual, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t hurt you did I?”
He noticed that he still had hold of my arm and let go. “I’m fine, no harm done. But how about you? Are you okay? I mean, you know, about the murder?”
“I’m good. Considering the circumstances.”
“Glad to hear that. I’ve been meaning to call all day to see how you were. I really can’t believe all this nonsense with the police.”
“Me either. It’s all such a crock. I mean, why on earth would anyone think I was capable of murder? I’m a really nice person. I’ve never hurt a fly. Well, except that time I hit Ricky Ray over the head with his guitar and he had to get eight stitches, but that wasn’t my fault. He made me do it.” I realized that I was clenching my fists and my jaw and told myself to relax.
Kyle backed up a couple of steps, regarding me like I was one doughnut short of a dozen. I quickly changed the subject, mentally kicking myself for being such a doofus.
“Anyway, I’m fine. Dicey’s representing me and I hear that she’s as good as they come. Thanks again for a nice time Saturday night. Even with the way things turned out, I had lots of fun with you. Especially after the, um, the,” I borrowed a word from Mom’s list of euphemisms, “tiff Giselle and I had.”
He smiled politely and took another step or two away from me. “I did too. It was nice of you to go with me on such short notice. I’ll call you soon about getting together for dinner or something.” I recognized the ‘get me away from this chick NOW’ tone in his voice. Chalk another one up to Marty’s big mouth.
“Okay, great. I’ll look forward to it.” I tried to keep the whiny whines out of my voice, but I don’t think I was successful.
“It was great seeing you,” he said, all the while backing away from me, “I’d best be getting back to my meeting.”
I think he was back to his table and in his seat before I had time to even say ‘bye’. I must have really scared him off.
Charli had paid the bill and was ready to leave when I returned to the table. “So, when are you and Kyle going out?” she asked.
“I don’t think we are,” I told her. “I think he’s afraid of me or something. Probably thinks I killed Frank.”
“Oh, Marty, he does not. I saw the way he looked at you. He’s smitten. Trust me, he’ll ask you out again. I’ve got great intuition, you know.”
I chuckled. My sister and her infamous intuition. Charli is always going on about what good instincts she has. Personally, I think she reads too much. She constantly keeps her nose stuck in one of those self-improvement books and this intuition thing is her latest phase. If you ask me, my sofa has better intuition than Charli does.
I almost escaped from the restaurant without an encounter with Herb, but I must be slipping in my unemployment. Either that, or the Bimbos of Bane were playing yet another one of their hysterically unfunny practical jokes.