“You too, Mrs. Kelly. Try to stay out of my case from now on.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, just vanished across the terrasse and into the darkness. I could see the lighter patch of his gray hoodie for a few seconds, and then that was gone, too.
Edwina spent a few seconds staring at the spot where Mendoza had disappeared before she trotted past me and inside, allowing me to close the door and lock it, and check that it was locked, twice, before I could finally sag against it.
“What just happened?”
Edwina tilted her head to contemplate me, then turned and headed across the kitchen and down the hall toward the bottom of the stairs as if the question wasn’t worthy of a response.
When I didn’t follow quickly enough, she stopped at the bottom of the staircase and gave a peremptory bark.
“Coming,” I told her.
* * *
Saturday morning found me parked down the street from the house in Charlotte Park, nursing a cup of coffee that had already gone lukewarm and wishing I’d thought to bring something more substantial for breakfast.
I still hadn’t quite processed the revelations from last night. The Body Shop was laundering money for the mob, and so was Sambuca. The police knew about it, and Mendoza was working undercover as a waiter, probably to keep an eye on things. He had known that I was staking out the Body Shop—although he had denied keeping an eye on it from across the street—so someone was probably undercover there, as well. One of the mechanics, most likely. There was at least half a dozen of them in addition to Nick, and they were all mostly interchangeable. After two days of watching, not a one of them had made enough of an impression on me that I would have recognized him on the street.
The implication of everything Mendoza had said was that I should stop watching the Body Shop and let the professionals work. I’m sure that’s what he’d intended, and expected me to do. But I had an advance to earn, and a client to convince that her boyfriend wasn’t cheating—but I had to do it without telling Jacquie anything Mendoza had told me.
And so I was here, while Zachary was outside the Body Shop. We were both looking for Nick.
Megan’s silver Accord wasn’t in the driveway. Neither was the other car I’d caught a glimpse of yesterday. The house itself looked quiet, maybe empty, with no lights visible through the windows and no signs of movement.
My phone rang, and I grabbed it from the center console. “This is Gina.”
“Morning.” Zachary sounded tired, which wasn’t surprising given how long he’d had to stick with Nick the previous night. “I’m in position.”
“And?”
“Sal’s here. So are two mechanics, neither of them Nick. No sign of Megan.”
I frowned at the house down the street. “Here, either. So where are they?”
“Beats me. On their way, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Although I doubted it. “How did last night go? I got your text that you were headed home, but it was so late that I didn’t want to ask for details.”
I’d been asleep, in fact, and hadn’t wanted to wake up properly to process a debrief.
Zachary let out a breath. “I can’t believe I thought this job was going to be fun. All we do is sit around and wait.”
Yes. But it was all he had done as doorman at the Apex, too, so it wasn’t as if much had changed.
“Where did you sit around last night?” I asked diplomatically.
“A sports bar in Bellevue. Place called the Tin Roof. They drove there straight from work, and they stayed for hours. Just sitting in a booth, drinking beer, watching the game on TV. And I was outside, so I couldn’t hear a word they were saying.”
“Why were you outside?” He could have gone in, couldn’t he? Sat at the next table and listened? Or watched from the bar, at least?
“I’m under twenty-one,” Zach said sulkily. “And I was watching. I couldn’t let them see me. But it was hours, Gina! And I was starving!”
I had to smile at that. “I’m sorry. You could have ordered delivery?”
“To the parking lot? Are you kidding?”
“I’m sure someone would have brought it out to you if you’d asked.”
