by Nan Sampson
Ellie didn't know who looked more surprised, her or Charlie. "Dan?"
"He wants to help. He knows how important this is to me." She smiled, a little sadly. "Poor Lacey. She'll never know what it's like to have someone like Dan."
Ellie watched her wander out of the kitchen, still a little amazed. Charlie summed it up, sotto voce.
"Whatever else he may be, he really loves her."
She nodded. "I suppose that's all that counts, in the end."
They exchanged a glance. Ellie winced. "You're going to shave, right?"
"So the Don Johnson look is out?"
"So out."
"Fine. Jeez, Gooden, you're just no fun."
She left him standing there, tossed him a final shot over her shoulder. "Yep, that's me. Ellie Gooden, No Fun Elf. Think I'll have that tattooed on my ass."
She didn't catch the comment he made under his breath. Probably just as well she hadn't.
Chapter 24
Ellie was in her bedroom, sorting through the clothing options Kate had provided, when her cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the number and was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but her sixth sense told her to answer the call.
She was shocked to hear Muriel Theissen on the other end. "I'm so sorry to bother you so late in the day, Ellie, but I was wondering if you'd have time to stop by the office tomorrow. I had to clean out Lacey's office today and I have a box of personal effects that I thought you might want to have."
The air suddenly grew chilled, and the hairs on the back of Ellie's arm stood on end. Ellie swore as she realized Lacey was back. She mentally grounded herself and silently said a quick protection spell before answering Muriel. "Um, sure, I guess."
"There's not much, but I just hate to toss it all."
Ellie wondered what on earth would be in the box. "What time?" Chill air swirled around her and she felt Lacey's anger and agitation. Waving her hand as though swatting at an insect, she covered the phone and hissed at the spirit. "Lacey, stop it."
"I'm sorry?"
Ellie shivered, took a few steps to the left, trying to get out of the cold spot. "Nothing, sorry."
"Okay. Um, you can come any time during the work day, but mornings really work best. I usually get in about 7:30."
Ellie calculated what time she'd have to leave the burbs to get into the Loop by 7:30. "That's do-able, barring any major traffic jams."
"That would be wonderful." She paused, but Ellie could tell she had more to say. "I met your friend Charlie today. What a nice guy. Have you been dating long?"
Ellie felt a bump, as though someone had pushed her from behind. She clenched her jaw, swore mentally at Lacey and Charlie both. Why had Lacey chosen now to visit her? And what on earth had Charlie told Muriel? "Um... not at all."
"I was so honored that you thought of me to speak at the memorial service."
Electricity zinged through her arm like she'd hit her funny bone and the cell phone flew out of her hand. She scrambled to retrieve it. Damn it, it better not be broken, she couldn't afford to replace it. The phone landed by the door and she picked it up. "I'm sorry, Muriel, I dropped the phone."
Another nudge to her shoulder had her banging her forehead into the door. "Damn it, stop pushing me!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sorry again. My nephew is horsing around here."
"Oh. Anyway, thanks again for thinking of me."
Thinking of her? She had to backtrack in her mind through their conversation. Oh, right, the memorial. "Well, you worked together for such a long time, and so closely, we just felt you were the natural choice." Had she heard that from Charlie or had Lawson told her?
The chill intensified to an almost painful intensity and at the same time the phone buzzed in her hand. She looked at it and saw it was displaying a map, a grid of closely packed streets. What the hell?
Muriel was still talking. "...see you tomorrow morning, then."
"Yes, right. See you then."
There was sudden silence, as though the call had been dropped, and Ellie looked down at the screen, seeing once again the image of the map. She punched the home button, but the screen wouldn't change. Nor, when she tried, could she turn the thing off. Every hair on her body stood up and goosebumps rose on her arm. Frigid air swirled around her, whipping her hair.
She looked at the map on the screen, trying to find a street she recognized. There was Halstead, so it had to be the city of Chicago. Unless here was a Halstead Street somewhere else. There was an abrupt flicker of the lights and a pop from the light bulb on the nightstand lamp. Her cell phone screen went dark. The chill faded instantly and in the same moment, she heard Charlie shout from downstairs. "Blew a circuit again! Hang on, I've got it."
Ellie scowled at her general environs. "Damn it, Lacey, stop doing that."
But there was no answer. Lacey was gone.
What was up with the map? Had that been a message or had her phone just chosen that moment to go on the fritz? She looked down at it again, but the screen was still dark. She pressed the power button and after a moment it restarted and appeared to work normally again.
She hurled the phone onto the bed, cursed Lacey again and went back to finding something she didn't want to wear to a dinner she didn't want to go to.
Chapter 25
There were no valet parking attendants at La Ristorante Angelina. But there was a not too expensive lot a couple of blocks away. Charlie had driven, maneuvering through the congested city traffic like a professional cabbie, which had impressed Ellie more than she liked to admit. There was also no doorman, but the maitre d' was standing at his podium as they entered through the heavy mahogany door, with its etched, oval glass.
The interior was dim, the rich wood paneling dark and expensive, the black and white draperies and table cloths making her feel as if she'd just stepped back in time about fifty years. Frank and Dean ought to have been having a raucous time in the corner, swilling martinis next to the piano, while Sammy played. But there was no piano, and the ambient muzak coming from a discreetly concealed speaker was a tenor, crooning softly in Italian.
Ellie followed the maitre d' into the main dining room, smiled at him as he held her chair. She was proud she hadn't wobbled on her heels and that she'd managed to keep the little black wooly shrug on her shoulders. She'd chosen the traditional 'little black dress' a very simple shift cut, then picked out a pendant necklace of Kate's that she'd always admired. No bracelets, they tended to annoy her, but she had on a pair of dangling silver thread earrings that caught the light nicely.
Charlie, surprisingly, cleaned up well. A mink brown suit paired with a crisp white shirt gave him a sharp, clean look. It had to have been his own suit – it fit him perfectly – and she was surprised he owned something so sleek. And expensive. The Rolex, however, he'd borrowed from Dan and it looked out of place on his wrist to anyone who knew him. Ellie lived in fear that he'd somehow manage to lose it before they got home.
The maitre d', who introduced himself as Vittorio in a thick Italian accent, clasped his hands together and bent slightly at the waist, beaming at them. "Welcome to Angelinas!" The accent had to be fake. He was probably an actor, a Steppenwolf wannabe. He handed them their menus with a flourish. "Mario will be serving you tonight. You make sure he tells you about our specials, eh?"
Charlie nodded at him, taking the menu. "Thanks."
With another quick incline from the waist, Vittorio backed away and left them.
The place wasn't crowded, although Ellie could imagine that on a busy night, it would get loud and claustrophobic. There were maybe twenty tables, most seating just two, crowded close together in the main dining room. Another smaller room jutted off the side, where they'd obviously annexed the next building over in an expansion.
There were only six other couples dining at the moment, but it was only six o'clock on a Tuesday, still early for the dinner rush.
She took a drink of her water, which was sweating all over the white ta
ble topper, leaving a big wet spot. "I hate places like this. I used to have to do this a lot when I was in marketing."
Charlie looked up from his menu. "Why? Good food, good wine, people who actually make it for you and do the dishes afterwards. What's not to like?"
"Snooty waiters, people who think they're better than you, hardly any vegetarian choices that you'd actually want to eat, wondering what's been crawling on your plate before they put your food on it. I'd rather eat at home."
"You have to learn to find the joy in everyday things, Weedhopper."
"And you have to learn not to live so dangerously. It'd be a shame to get a wine stain on that very expensive suit."
Mario arrived then, and they placed their drink order. Charlie also ordered a stuffed mushroom appetizer that actually sounded fairly tasty, along with a bottle of Margaux. Ellie gave him a look after the waiter had gone. "Who do you think is paying for this little shindig?"
He grinned. "Dan."
"And does he know you were planning on ordering a sixty buck bottle of wine?"
"He knew we were coming to a chi-chi restaurant. When in Rome..."
She shook her head. "It's no wonder he rides you, if this is how you normally behave." She put her napkin on the table. "I'm going to check out the ladies room."
"Alone? Good heavens. How long should I wait before I send in a posse?"
"Very funny." She stood, glanced around, didn't see any obvious place to go, so she went back out front to the maitre d'.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where the ladies room is?"
Vittorio smiled unctuously and pointed down a hallway to the right of the front door. "All the way at the end on the left."
Hah. The accent had almost vanished. She must have caught him off guard. She thanked him and walked down the hall. It was dark, darker even than the rest of the place. A few pictures decorated the dark paneled walls, with little lights to illuminate the art hanging over them, but there was nothing overhead.
The ladies room door had a glass panel in the top half, with Signorinas stenciled in black against the frosted glass.
Inside were three standard stalls, painted black, and three porcelain pedestal sinks. A large mirror covered the wall behind the sinks, reflecting back the stalls. Old fashioned black and white tessellated tile covered the floor and ran about three quarters of the way up the walls.
There was a little nook by the door that bumped out, where someone had placed a chair, a little table and a full length oval mirror on the wall, in just the perfect spot to check your look before you walked out the door.
She used the facilities then stood at the sink and tried to imagine Lacey, standing here, chatting with her co-worker, the way women did, re-applying her lipstick or combing her hair. She closed her eyes, tried to feel Lacey's energy. She would have stood at the center sink, so Ellie moved into that spot.
"Come on, Lacey," she whispered. "Give me something. You've been hounding me for days and now I’m right here where you died. Help me help you."
She didn't know what she had expected. Certainly not an ethereal voice from above or an image floating in the mirror. But she thought she might get something.
After a minute or so of concentration, she opened her eyes. The bathroom was just the bathroom, and nothing floated mysteriously in the mirror except a streak where the attendant hadn't wiped it clean.
In her mind's eye, she could visualize Lacey standing there behind her, arching her severe brows in disappointment. Abruptly, Ellie’s throat constricted and she couldn’t catch her breath.
Just as quickly, the sensation passed. She gulped in air, wondering if this was an incipient panic attack. Sucking in a deep breath, she braced herself at the sink. Slow deep breaths, she told herself.
When she looked up into the mirror again, she still saw nothing but her own haggard reflection - tired eyes, strained mouth, paler than normal skin. Damn, but she needed to get back to where she belonged.
Frustrated at her lack of any useful insights, she washed up, then made her way back out to the table. Vittorio was missing from his post as she walked past, and she was grateful that he was since she'd taken so long.
Charlie was frowning slightly. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I just stood there for a bit, trying to get a sense of the place, trying to... I don't know. Get closer to the last place Lacey was alive."
"Did you, you know, sense anything?"
"No. Got a little choked up, but nothing useful."
His expression softened. "Look, I know this is hard. I really am sorry about Lacey."
"Thanks." She cleared her throat, which still felt thick, then picked up her menu. "I suppose I should figure out what I want."
"They really do have some decent veggie options. They even say they use vegetarian cheeses. Whatever that means."
"That means no rennet."
"And rennet is bad?"
"Only if you don't like eating the digestive enzymes from a cow's stomach."
"Okay, that's disgusting."
"Well, that's how you make cheese. At least, non-vegetarian cheese."
Charlie put his hands over his ears. "La la la. I don't want to hear it. I'm happy being an omnivore."
Ellie laughed, scanned the menu. "Wow. Okay, I'm impressed. Maybe that's why Lacey agreed to eat here. There are actually some yummy looking things."
"Maybe we can have the rehearsal dinner here."
She looked up sharply, realized Charlie was grinning and that the waiter was standing there. "I don't know." She smiled up at Mario, wondering what his real name was. "We'll have to see what their desserts are like!"
"Oh, we have a wonderful dessert selection." He placed the steaming dish of stuffed mushrooms on the table, and then the two appetizer plates. "Would you like to order now or take a few moments?"
Charlie glanced at Ellie. "Hon? You ready?"
She nodded. "Sure. I'll have the shells stuffed with cremini mushrooms and spinach."
"Soup or salad?"
"Salad, please, with the raspberry vinaigrette."
"And you, sir?"
"Hmm. Tough choices here. Everything looks good. But if I have to choose... then let's go for the toasted cheese raviolis. Salad with the vinaigrette and could we get another bottle of the Margaux?"
"Certainly, sir. You are getting married soon?"
"Soon is a relative term. You would not believe how far in advance you have to book halls these days!"
Mario's accept slipped a bit. "Tell me about it! You know, we do a lovely rehearsal dinner here. I could have the chef stop by to talk to you about it."
Charlie made a point of looking at Ellie. "Hon?"
"Oh, I'd hate for him to bother. We're still so early in the planning stages."
"It would be no bother at all. In the meantime, let me just get your orders in. Enjoy the mushrooms."
Mario bustled off and Charlie nearly burst out laughing. "Good God, you should have seen the look on your face. I might as well have sprouted horns and a tail."
"Ha ha. And what has this little charade gained us?"
"The chance to come back again, and not have it look suspicious."
Sliding one of the mushrooms onto her plate, she cut into it and took a bite. "Oh, wow. This is fantastic."
Charlie dug in with gusto, although still careful not to spill on his tie. "Have you noticed the maitre d'?"
"You mean Vito, from the North Side – of Italy? What about him?"
"He's pretty Johnny-on-the-spot when patrons arrive. How much you wanna bet he saw Lacey leave. Maybe even called her a taxi."
"Well, maybe we ought to invite him over for a cognac after dinner."
"Excellent idea, hon."
She found his shin with the sharp toe of her borrowed shoes. It was about time she started giving payback for her own sore ankles. Smiling sweetly at him, she said under her breath, "Agreed. And stop calling me hon."
"I could call you Shirley."
"Shut up and eat."
They ate in silence for a bit. The food really was surprisingly good. She had a little of the wine, but knew better than to drink more than a few sips. It would go right to her head. Lacey had been an aficionado of wine, even back in college. Not for her, the noxious and incredibly cheap Mogen David 20/20 – better known as Mad Dog -- they used to swill on Quad Day. No, she'd pour a bottle of very French, very expensive Nouveau Beaujolais into her boda to carry around the Quad.
"You're smiling."
Replacing her fork on her plate, she stared towards the front of the restaurant, idly watching a young couple follow Vittorio to their table. They must have been regulars, because he stood and talked to them for quite a while before returning, guard dog-like, to his post. "Remember the other night? When Lacey paid me a visit?”
“Not something I’m likely to forget.”
“When I was in the bathroom earlier, I was hoping Lacey might give me some kind of sign. I know she’s pissed, but so far, she’s not doing much to help us out."
“If that was indeed her.”
Still disbelieving. She shook her head. “It was her. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I don’t have a better explanation, although not for trying. Well, if she was going to appear, I suppose the last place she was alive would be an excellent place for her to manifest. Be nice if she could be a little less cryptic, however.”
She took just one more sip of the excellent Margaux. "I know. How hard would it be to just write the name of the damn killer on--" She sputtered, choking a bit, as the wine went down the wrong way. She felt her throat constrict, tried to draw in air, and for one awful moment, couldn't breathe. Her chest burned, her eyes teared, and she felt a blind panic overwhelm her.
She grabbed her napkin as a hideous bout of coughing hit her and moments later, she finally gasped a breath, which prompted another bout of coughing. But at least she could breathe again.
Charlie was on his feet, and standing beside her, hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
She nodded.
"No, answer me. I need you to speak."
