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Jessica and I were having dinner at Henrietta's Table in Cambridge. We liked the fresh from local farms good home cooking. Even after dark, the restaurant offered a bright and airy environment with an upscale country kitchen décor.
The waitress brought our drinks as we considered the supper menu. Jessica started with a Henrietta's Sangria. I was having an Autumn Old Fashioned. The mix of Clydes Alabama Style whiskey, orange bitters, maple syrup, and cherry was a perfect drink on a cool fall evening.
“I know what I'm having,” I said as I put down my menu.
“Already?”
“I had a good idea before we came in,” I said. “Maine Rock Crab for a starter, and Yankee Pot Roast for my entree, and Henrietta's Chocolate Bread Pudding Sundae for dessert.”
Jessica tilted her menu away from her face and smiled at me. My world grew brighter. I was lucky to have her sitting across from me. She returned to reading the menu.
I enjoyed my Autumn Old Fashioned as Jessica scanned the options. I figured she was debating whether to have the fish or the chicken. We ate at Legal Sea Food recently, so my bet was on the chicken.
She put her menu down. A hint of perfume drifted toward me. It was like a spring meadow.
“So what will it be?” I said.
“Spinach salad and the rotisserie roasted herb crusted chicken.”
I smiled.
“Because we had Legal a few weeks ago?” she said.
“Yep.”
“Well, I'll keep you in suspense as to what I'm having for dessert.”
Our waitress, Julia, came and took our order. She had served us a few times before when we'd eaten at Henrietta's.
“How are your studies going?” Jessica asked her. Julia was a graduate student in American History at Harvard.
“Good,” she said. “Doris Kearns Goodwin came to speak to my class on American presidents.”
“Did you know Doris Kearns Goodwin was the first women to be let in the Boston Red Sox dugout?” I said.
“No, I didn't,” Julia said. “Cool.”
“Makes me think I should become a world-renown scholar on American presidents,” I said.
“Or get hired by a member of the Red Sox to solve a case,” Julia said.
“Even better,” I said.
“I'll go put your order in,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
After Julia left, Jessica leaned toward me and whispered, “I think Julia has a little crush on you.”
“I do have that effect on women.”
“Just as long as you remember you're spoken for.”
Jessica placed her hand on top of my mine.
“How could I forget?” I said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m aware of how good I've got it.”
Jessica patted my hand. “I've got it pretty good too,” she said.
“Where do things stand with the Ashley Holland case?” Jessica said.
I caught Jessica up on what I had learned. She agreed, despite the lack of hard evidence, there was enough to pursue the case as a murder investigation. But there was still a lot to consider.
“So let's consider means and possible motive,” she said.
“Grant Worthington pretty much rules Hollywood, so he certainly has the means,” I said.
“How about motive?”
“Ashley and Hannah were blackmailing him to keep silent?” I said. “They learned something else about Grant he didn't want to get out?”
I spread my hands apart and shrugged my shoulders.
“Both plausible,” Jessica said.
She took a sip of her sangria. Jessica was a sipper when it came to alcoholic beverages. She'd nurse the drink through dinner.
“The difficulty is in figuring out how probable,” I said. “And then proving it. Not to mention Grant may not be involved at all.”
“There is that,” Jessica said.
“I really don't have enough information to have a strong working theory,” I said.
Jessica said, “Other than their deaths look like they occurred at the hands of a hired killer. Ashley and Hannah were both escorts at Premier. And both had slept with Grant Worthington.”
“Thus far, those are the results of my investigation in a nutshell,” I said. I finished my Autumn Old Fashioned. I caught Julia's attention and ordered another. She brought it over and placed it on the table, along with our starters.
I dug into my Maine Rock Crab as Jessica nibbled at her spinach salad. She sipped her sangria. I drank my second Autumn Old Fashioned.
“So what's your next move?” Jessica asked.
“Take your pick,” I said. “I need to learn more about Premier Escort Services, Grant Worthington, and Ashley and Holland's interactions with him. I also need to find out if Ashley and Hannah shared any other connections. Particularly any other Premier clients.”
“That's a pretty long list,” Jessica said.
“Burke and Sanchez will run down information on Grant Worthington,” I said.
“He's their person of interest?” Jessica said.
“At the moment,” I said. “I'm going to ask around about Premier. That should also reveal any other connections Ashley and Hannah may have shared.”
I finished my crab. Jessica still had half her spinach salad remaining when Julia arrived with our entrees.
We enjoyed our dinner and talked about getting away for a long weekend after I concluded the investigation. Jessica was too full to order her own dessert, so I shared some of mine. Not a particularly generous gesture as I could predict it would only amount to two or three small bites.
I drove Jessica to her condo near Charlestown Naval Shipyard Park. I stayed for one drink before I left so she get to sleep for an early morning flight out of Logan. She'd be gone a few days consulting on a case at Pinnacle's London office. I'd cross the Charles River from Cambridge to Boston and meet with some shadowy figures to learn more about the off the books activities of Premier escorts. We shared the same profession, but we mostly operated in different worlds.
I walked back to my car on 8th Street and two goons approached me. One on my left and one on my right. They were at least my size and had broad shoulders, thick necks, and logs for arms.
The guy on my left had a crooked nose from it being broken a number of times. The guy on my right was balding with a bad comb over. They were both ugly as sin.
Broken Nose placed a vice grip around my left arm. Comb Over jabbed a gun into my ribs. The silencer on the gun let me know he had no qualms about shooting me on the busy street.
A black Escalade pulled to a stop in front of us. Comb Over opened the rear passenger door. Crooked Nose said to me, “Get in. We're going for a little ride.”
I didn't see a scenario where my not getting in didn't get me shot, so I got in.
Crooked Nose slid in beside me and closed the door. Comb Over climbed into the front passenger seat and closed his door. The Escalade sped away from the curb.