“And you don’t think Nick might have found that a little suspicious?”
He might, if he had noticed. But if Zachary had been as close to death as he made it sound, it would have been worth it, I assumed.
“By the time they finally left,” he went on, “around eleven, maybe, I was so hungry I thought I was going to pass out. I had to keep my distance just so they wouldn’t hear my stomach grumble.”
I snickered. “I’m so sorry.”
“You should be. I’m a growing boy; I can’t not eat, Gina.”
“Of course you can’t,” I said soothingly. “What happened then?”
“I followed Nick back to his apartment, watched him go inside, and then I drove to McDonald’s and ordered a twenty-piece McNugget meal and a basket of fries.”
“And?”
“And I ate all of it. In the parking lot. Like some kind of animal.” He sounded embarrassed. And a bit truculent. And sulky still. “I’m putting it on my expense report, just so you know.”
“You don’t have an expense report, Zach. But I’ll reimburse you for the food, if you want. Just give the receipt to Rachel when you get back to the office.”
Which would be Monday, I assumed. I work weekends when we have clients, but I don’t make my employees do it. Not unless they want to.
“All right,” I added. “Stay where you are until noon, if you don’t mind, and then you can go home. Let me know if Nick or Sal or Megan shows up. And go inside the Taco Bell and get yourself some food if you get hungry.”
“What are you going to do?”
Good question. “I’m parked down from Megan’s house, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s here. Maybe the kid does sports on Saturday mornings.”
“That’s what I did,” Zachary confirmed. “I hated it.”
“Kenny, too. David tried everything from archery to Zumba, and none of it stuck.” Krystal, on the other hand, had rather enjoyed the cheerleading she’d done in her teens, although of course she hadn’t wanted to talk to me about it.
I checked the dashboard clock. It was getting closer to eight-forty. If the kid was doing sports, they might not be back for hours. Maybe I should drive out to Bellevue and check Nick’s place, in case they were there. I could always come back here later.
But first?—
“Listen, Zach…”
“Yeah?” I could tell that his ears had pricked up from the alertness in his voice.
“I ran into Detective Mendoza last night.”
His voice was bright. “Jaime? Where?” Zach idolizes Mendoza. He’s everything Zach wants to be when he grows up.
“Turns out he’s working undercover at Sambuca.”
There was a beat. “Uh-oh,” Zachary said. He’s always been quick. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
“A spot of bother with the mob?” I said apologetically.
“Mob?” His voice rose to a falsetto. “What do you mean, mob?”
“Not the Russians. You don’t have to worry about them again.”
Zachary made a disbelieving noise, and it was hard to blame him. During the time when we’d been stalking Steven Morton on behalf of his wife Diana, Zachary had spent some time in the hospital courtesy of the Russian mob. It was no wonder the idea scared him.
“These are the Italians,” I added. “And it’s got nothing to do with us. I don’t think they know we exist. But that’s what Sal and Nick and the Body Shop are mixed up in. They’re laundering money.”
There was a beat of silence. Then?—
