idea of a man with possible mobster ties being unhappy with me started a thread of tension mingling with my excitement. Tension quickly turned to panic when I nearly lost her coming out of the parking area. There was some sort of fender bender two rows over that caused enough confusion that she made the traffic light and I didn’t.
I spent several minutes sweating buckets and muttering incoherently before I was able to charge down the road in the direction she had taken. I didn’t slow down until I came up on the white Jag driving at a leisurely pace a short distance in front of me. Breathing a considerable sigh of relief, I noted Elaine was talking to someone on her cell phone as she drove. The boyfriend to tell him she was on her way?
Elaine was a careful driver. That came as something of a shock because the perky blonde didn’t strike me as the slow and methodical type. Still, I was deeply grateful as she all but led me by the hand, using her turn signals well ahead of time as we headed into downtown Cleveland near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was on more familiar territory now, but my relief was short lived. I was seriously underdressed for her next stop.
Scarpanelli’s is a new Italian restaurant with a commanding view overlooking Lake Erie near the Burke Lakefront Airport. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might be one of the places my client, Albert Russo, owns. I’d heard the food was superb if you didn’t mind dropping close to a hundred dollars on a meal. I minded. I didn’t even date guys with that sort of money.
Assuming I could get the hostess to let me inside dressed in shorts, I still had a problem. I couldn’t afford an appetizer, let alone a meal in there. The restaurant was busy but not yet crowded. That would come later. Right now it was mostly wealthy families and the blue-rinse walker-and-cane crowd. Elaine would stand out in that mix. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to see who she was standing out to meet. This was not good. In fact, this was very bad.
I debated calling Russo on the number he’d given me to explain the problem, but I couldn’t see him being particularly sympathetic. He was attending some important business dinner tonight and he’d hired me to do a job. He wouldn’t want excuses as to why I couldn’t do said job.
From now on, I vowed, I’d keep a couple of outfits in the trunk for emergencies like this one. In the meantime I was stuck. I couldn’t follow her inside, so I’d have to see if I could find a place outside where I could peer in.
No such luck. The entire back wall was elevated and composed of tinted glass. Patrons could see out over the lake, but I couldn’t see in.
I was making my way around the building when I surprised a young man near the kitchen entrance. He was puffing a joint in a secluded nook near the trash bins. His body jerked, sharply startled when I appeared around the corner.
“Hey. What are you doing here? You aren’t allowed back here.”
At a guess, he was about seventeen. Based on his dark pants and white shirt I figured him for a busboy. I offered him a friendly smile.
“You aren’t allowed to smoke weed either, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping you. Look, I’m not interested in your drug habits, I’m a private investigator,” I told him before he could get bent out of shape.
“Yeah, right.”
Whipping out my ID folder, I offered him proof. He studied it almost as carefully as Mickey had.
“Hey, cool. You want a hit?”
“No, thanks, but I could use your help.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a woman inside the restaurant. Tall blonde, short hair with bangs. She’s wearing a pale blue skirt and a matching silk blouse.” I pulled out the picture of Elaine Russo and gave him a look. “She went in alone a few minutes ago. I need to know who she’s meeting in there. There’s a twenty in it for you if you can help me out.”
Which would leave me exactly three dollars in cash until I found an ATM. But, hey, I’d get the money back under expenses.
The kid smirked. He looked me up and down curiously. I could see he was intrigued.
“How come you want to know about her?”
I shrugged, trying for blasé. “It’s my job. Her husband hired me to see if she’s meeting another man.”
“I thought P.I.’s were guys like they show on television.”
“Lots of them are,” I agreed, trying not to grit my teeth. “Haven’t you ever heard of Charlie’s Angels?”
His eyes lit. “Like the movies?”
“Less death-defying action but the same concept.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. You carry a gun?”
He seemed to be trying to decide where I was hiding one under my snug white shorts and thin pink T-shirt.
“Not at the moment. This is a simple tail job. No guns required. Think you can help me out?”
He finished his joint and nodded. I could see the questions bubbling up inside him, so I was surprised when he glanced at his watch and straightened.
“I’ll check for you, but you’d better wait around the corner over there. Benny’ll be dumping trash pretty soon and he won’t like you hanging here.”
“Thanks. That’s fine.”
“I’ll be back, but it might be a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Unless Elaine decided to leave here all of a sudden, too.
I tried not to feel conspicuous as I moved to stand near the corner of the restaurant where I could keep an eye on the parking lot. The day’s heat was finally melting away. There was even a welcome breeze coming in off the lake. Unfortunately I was too nervous to be properly appreciative. The luscious smells wafting from the kitchen were making me drool. I wondered if they fed strays at the kitchen door. I’d willingly sit up and beg for a taste of what I was sniffing. The longer I stood there, the louder my stomach complained. I fervently wished my busboy would return and tell me what was going on inside.
After what felt like I’d been standing there for hours, he scooted out the back door and rushed over to where I was waiting.
“I can’t stay,” he told me breathlessly. “Your woman’s in there, all right. Table thirty-two. She ordered the French onion soup with tonight’s special, the lobster fettuccine—”
“Did she meet anyone?” I interrupted before he could give me any more details. Visualizing food when my stomach was knocking against the back of my ribs was sheer torture. “Has anyone approached her table?”
“Nope. As far as I can tell, she’s completely alone. Kinda surprising. I mean, she’s not bad looking for an older woman, you know? She just ordered coffee and the white-chocolate-mousse cake, so she’ll probably be in there for another half hour or so. She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”
I fished out my twenty and watched it disappear into his hip pocket. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem.
