by Nan Sampson
"Yes," she wheezed. "I'm okay. No Heimlich."
"Thank god." He returned to his seat. "You're sure you're okay?"
She took a couple of tentative breaths, felt okay, took a deeper one. "Yeah. Fine. Although everyone in the restaurant is now staring at me."
"They're only admiring your taste in fashion accessories."
"Is this what you're like with all your dates?"
"You don't like my boyish charm?"
The question wasn't worth answering. Gods, how embarrassing. Her face was red, and not just from coughing. She took another breath, glad to be able to do so. Around her, people slowly returned their attention to their meals. She cleared her throat, straightened the silverware on either side of her appetizer plate. "I think it's time for you to take a trip to the men's room."
Charlie looked puzzled. "But I don't--"
"On your way, you can stop by and have a little man to man with Vittorio. Meanwhile, I'll do a little innocent flirting with Mario, see if he was here the night Lacey was."
"Divide and conquer. Excellent plan." He got to his feet, graceful and surprisingly elegant in the suit. "Into the valley of Vittorio rode the Six Hundred." He gave her a salute, then spun on his heels, muttering, "Ours not to reason why, ours just to do and die," as he marched off.
Good Goddess, it was like being out with a thirteen-year old. Despite herself, she grinned. A part of her could definitely see the appeal – if nothing else, it was a novelty and beat the hell out the usual self-absorbed, Wall Street-fixated types she'd been surrounded by in her dating days.
She waited until Charlie had gotten as far as Vittorio's podium, then looked around pointedly for Mario. He was paying attention – probably had been since she'd nearly hacked up her lung, and he hurried right over when she motioned to him.
"Is the Signorina alright?"
"Fine, fine. A little wine went down the wrong way, is all. Do you think I could get a little more water?"
"Oh, certainly."
He hurried off and came back with the water pitcher a moment later. While he was pouring, she smiled up at him. "I heard about that other poor woman the other night. The one who choked to death outside. How awful for you! You didn't find her, did you?"
Mario's face grayed. "Actually, yeah, I did. When I went to take the trash out in the morning." He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "God, it was horrible. I thought at first it was a mannequin in the garbage. You know, some kind of joke. People are always putting weird things in the dumpster. But then I saw her eyes." The young man squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the sight again.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it all back for you."
"That's okay. It was just a shock, you know?"
"So you were the one that called the police?"
"Yeah. Well, I came in and told Chef. Chef actually called."
"Did you wait on the woman? The one who died?"
"No, not my table. But I remembered her. A looker, she was, but the kind whose face'd break if she smiled, you know?”
Ellie smiled. “I know the kind. I used to wait tables when I was in college and believe me, I’ve seen all types. The chronic complainers were the worst – and you can usually tell who they are just by looking at them when they walk in the door.”
Mario nodded and Ellie could see his guard ease. In his eyes, she was now part of his world. “Amen to that.” He glanced around, then bent down closer. “Sarah, the girl who waited on their table? She said the woman was a real pill. Had her take the soup back because it wasn't the right temperature and then complained that the butter knife had a spot on it – twice! Then she was convinced that the cheese in the stuffed shells wasn't rennet-free. Sarah was ready to kill her." Mario clapped his hand over his mouth then, realizing what he'd just said. "But that's just an expression, you know? I mean, she didn't really mean that."
"Oh, goodness, of course not. I completely understand. How frustrating. So what do you think happened to her? I mean, how on earth did she end up in the alley?"
Mario shrugged. "I dunno. But... it coulda been drugs."
"Drugs?"
"She left the dinner early, right? Before the others. So she was probably going to meet her connection. She goes outside, meets the guy in the alley, the score goes bad, the dealer pops her and stuffs her in the dumpster."
Ellie kept the interested, benign look on her face. "Wow. You've given this a lot of thought."
"Well, it's the only thing that makes sense, right? I mean, why else would she be in that alley? I don't even like to go back there, but I have to 'cause I have to take out the trash. No way would a lady like that would go back there for any other reason."
"Does anyone else have a theory?"
"Nah." He shook his head, straightened a little, glancing around again. "Well, Vito, but he's always thinking the mob is involved in everything. Got the mob on the brain. But there ain't no mob left in Chicago anymore."
She agreed with him. "Yeah, I'm thinking the days of Al Capone are over."
"Al Capone nothing. Tony Aiuppo used to come in here – at least that's what Chef says. Vito says it too, but I never believe what Vito says." He stood up and squared his shoulders as Charlie strode back to the table. "You're sure you're alright, ma'am?"
"Yes, quite alright, thank you." She let him top off her water glass again.
"Very good. Your dinner should be out shortly. You let me know if you need anything else."
Settling into his seat, Charlie lounged back in his chair. He wore a smug grin. “You know, I should have gone into politics."
"It's still not too late. What did Vittorio have to say?"
"He did indeed call Lacey a cab. Actually, he called her a number of other things, none of them very flattering."
Ellie slumped in her seat. "Sad. Okay, so why the name calling?"
"She ate here fairly regularly – maybe once or twice a month. Never very pleasant."
"So this must either be close to the office or home." She thought for a minute. "Unless I'm completely mistaken, we're quite a ways from her office."
Charlie nodded. "Fifteen blocks. I checked online. And about six blocks from home. I suppose if she were the athletic type she could have stopped here on her way home from work."
"But she asked for a cab that night?"
"Yup. Can't blame her. It was late, and it was cold." Leaning forward, he poured himself more wine. "Well, actually, he didn't 'call' for a cab, just went out front and hailed one. She asked him for it before she went into the ladies room. It was a Windy City taxi cab. He didn’t have the number, but that’s easy enough to get."
"And he saw her leave?"
"Yeah. A few minutes later."
"Did he see her get in the cab?"
"No. Has no idea what happened after she went out the door. The glass is frosted, you can't see outside. And it was a busy night. He wasn't even really paying that much attention. The only reason he remembers her leaving at all is that he had to make sure there was a cab waiting outside."
She pushed her stuffed mushroom around on her plate for a bit, then finally put her fork down. "I talked to the waiter – turns out he was the one who found her."
"Found her body? In the dumpster?"
She nodded. "He seemed pretty shook up. He's convinced she was killed while scoring drugs from some dealer in the alley."
"Does he have knowledge of there being a dealer in the alley?"
She paused, then shrugged. "Now that I don't know." She saw him coming out of the corner of her eye. Keeping her voice low and a sweet smile on her face, she said, "But here's your chance to show me how smooth you are. I believe he's here with our dinner."
Appetizer plates were whisked away, replaced by dinner service.
Charlie oohed and aahed appropriately, then leaned forward conspiratorially as Mario bent to refill his wine glass. "My fiancée tells me you had the misfortune to find the body of that poor woman the other day."
Mari
o nodded, and Ellie couldn't tell if maybe he didn't enjoy the notoriety of the event just a little bit. "I did, sir."
"So you think she might have been meeting a drug dealer?"
"I can't think of why else she would have been back there."
"You know, I have a fraternity brother who works for the D.A.s office. He's on a drug trafficking task force and this is just the kind of thing that lights his fire. Do you see a lot of drug traffic in that alley? I mean, I could put a word in his ear, maybe get someone down here to monitor the place, send the riff raff on their way."
Mario looked suitably impressed – and a little guilty. "Man, I mean, that's really nice, but I was really just sort of, you know, supposing."
"So you haven't seen a lot of that kind of thing going on out there? Like when you take the trash out?"
"Nah. There's a couple of bums now and then. Mostly dumpster diving. And Chef sometimes gives them left-overs. But those guys are harmless. I'd hate to see them get in trouble."
Charlie held up his hand. "Nuff said. I just wanted to make sure that if you needed some help, you knew you could get it."
"Well, thanks, but I don't think we really need anything like that." Mario stood back. "Can I get you folks anything else at the moment?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, thanks. This looks fantastic."
"Great. Okay, enjoy then."
Ellie waited until Mario had slipped into the kitchen before laughing. "Oh, that was beautiful. A fraternity brother in the D.A.'s office. You should be a fiction writer."
"Hey, it's sort of true. I do have a pal from University who is loosely connected to the D.A.'s office." He grinned at her, the Irish in his eyes twinkling madly. "He probably wouldn't remember me, except maybe as the guy who had to stand naked in the fountain singing God Save the Queen while pouring water from a pitcher during hazing. But he is still my pal and he does do intelligence work, on occasion, for the D.A.'s office."
Ellie laughed harder. "Naked in a fountain, huh? Did you at least have a fig leaf to hold?"
Charlie shook his head. "No. And believe me, that water was damn cold."
"Where did you go to school?"
Charlie cut a ravioli in half and stuffed it in his mouth before mumbling something.
"I'm sorry?"
He took a moment to finish chewing, then washed the bite down with some of the very expensive wine. "Wow. This is great. You want some?"
"No, not right now, thanks. I didn't hear what you said – where did you go to college?"
He wiped some sauce off his mouth with his napkin, his words muffled by the cloth. This time, though, she thought she caught what he'd said.
"You went to Cambridge? In England?"
He picked up the wine bottle, jostled it. "You need a refill."
She quickly put her hand over her glass. "Thanks, but no. I'll wind up with a headache. Back up. What did you study?"
He actually flushed. "What does it matter?"
"I'm just curious. Most people don't even leave their own state to go to college, much less their own country." She tasted her meal, found it was as fabulous as everything else had been so far. "So tell me. What did you study?"
Charlie looked distinctly uncomfortable. It was the first time Ellie had seen him so. "I read history. That's what they call it – we'd say I studied it." He paused, watching her for a response. "Classical history, with an emphasis on Roman history, specifically the reign of the Vespasians."
She put her fork down and just looked at him for a minute. "Wow. Charlie, I never in a million years would have guessed that. That's... that's very cool."
"I usually tell people I got a degree in business. Then they're bored and they leave me alone.” His voice took on an exasperated tone. “I don't know why I actually told you the truth."
"Did you just do the four years?"
"No. I actually have an M.A. But I didn't do my graduate work there."
"So what the hell, Charlie? Why did you become a cop? Why are you doing... whatever it is you're doing now?"
"I'm a licensed private investigator now. That is a real job, no matter what you think. I may not have thousands of clients at the moment, but it takes time to build a business.” He met her gaze again. “Anyone who works for themselves will tell you that."
"That's not what I meant. I totally support your desire to do your own thing. As you so eloquently put it the other night, I'm not a rule follower myself. But how do you go from some kind of lofty intellectual pursuit to busting perps on the mean streets of Chicago?"
He ran a finger under his collar. "I have only one complaint about this restaurant. It's bloody hot in here."
"And why do these questions make you so uncomfortable?"
He shrugged. "Let's get back to the case. What have we learned?"
Her natural inclination was to bulldog him further, but she could see how genuinely uncomfortable he was. "Fine. But we'll come back to this at some point, Charlie. This is a story worth hearing."
She took a couple more bites of her meal, let the mood settle. "I'm not really sure what we've learned." She looked up, met his eyes. "You're the expert, you tell me."
"Well, we've confirmed that she left the restaurant at approximately nine thirty." He ticked the items off on his long fingers, as he spoke. "We've confirmed that her body was indeed found in the dumpster in the alley alongside the restaurant by one of the staff. We've..." He paused as Mario approached, then continued blithely, "...confirmed the florist and the bakery."
"How is everything?"
Ellie smiled up at him. "Just fine, thanks."
"The chef has asked if you would accept a special dessert this evening, in celebration of your engagement?"
"Oh! Oh, that's not necessary!" So completely not necessary.
"It would make Chef very happy to help you celebrate."
"Well, then, of course, that would be lovely. Thank you." Charlie put his hand on Ellie's, in part as a show of affection, and in part to keep her from protesting any further.
Mario smiled. "Excellent. Please, enjoy your meal. Would you like another bottle of wine?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, no. I think we've had enough."
"Very good. Enjoy."
Mario backed away and disappeared into the kitchen and Ellie nearly exploded. In a terse whisper, she hollered at Charlie. "You can't keep this up, Charlie! We're not engaged! We're not going to have our 'rehearsal dinner' here. It's wrong to keep lying to these people. They're thinking they're going to get a chunk of business out of us."
"Oh, don't get your self-righteous undies in a bunch. I'll make sure Dan throws some business their way if you need that to assuage your conscience. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy every bite of whatever it is Chef is preparing for us."
"Goddess, you're incorrigible. But go on. You were telling me what we've learned, which so far sounds like a lot of nothing we didn’t already know."
"Well, confirming things is important. But we do know that she intended to take a cab home. So that means there was a cabbie sitting out there. And we now know which cab company that cabbie was from. So presumably, we can now find said cabbie and ask him what he saw."
"We were going to do that anyway."
"Yeah, but now we don't have to do quite as much leg work."
"Is that it?"
Charlie managed a few bites of his meal, then shrugged. "We've made some good connections here. If we need to come back and ask a few more questions, there won't be any problem doing so."
"Except that we'll have to lie more to do it."
"Don't tell me you're not enjoying the role playing."
"No. I'm not. I like being me."
His smile slipped. "Fine. Maybe you should have 'No Fun Elf' tattooed on your ass."
They ate in silence for a bit, before Ellie tried again. "So that's it. That's all we've learned. It hardly seems worth the cost of this very expensive meal."
Charlie shrugged. "Sometimes you hit a big pay-off, sometimes y
ou don't. But you have to follow up every lead, every avenue of investigation. You never know when you're going to find the thread that makes the whole thing unravel."
"So what next?"
"The cabbie, I think. And maybe having a go at her apartment."
"What about her computer? Do you think there'll be anything there?"
"Probably. But I'll have to figure out how to break her password."
"I don't suppose Dan..."
The famous grin reappeared. "The only one who could get Dan to play along would be Kate. And I don't know if even her persuasive powers would be up to it. I shudder to think what she'd have to promise him."
"Gah. Don't even put that picture in my head." She pushed her plate away, finding she'd had her fill. She just wasn't used to eating this much food – certainly not food this rich. "Mario said that there probably wasn't a drug dealer in the alley – does that help support our theory that it wasn't a simple crime of opportunity?"
"A little I suppose. But the most interesting thing there is that he said that there are homeless people who occasionally hang out there. So there might be a witness out there we don't even know about."
Ellie scoffed. "Right. Now all we have to do is find a couple of homeless people in a city filled with them."
Disappointment laced his words. "Spoken like an elitist – I wonder if you and Lacey didn’t have more in common than you think.” He continued before she could formulate a snarky reply. “Finding them actually shouldn't be hard – homeless people typically stay in one area, and are frequently creatures of habit and routine. If I come back here about the time of day Chef provides his handouts, I should be able to talk to the regulars."
He had it wrong. She wasn’t an elitist. Arguing, however, would only convince him otherwise, so she let it drop. "It would be so good to find somebody who saw or knows something."
"Patience, Ellie. We've only just started. We'll get there."
"You sound so positive. I wish I felt that way."
"You just need something sweet and yummy. Along with a cappuccino. Then you'll feel all better."
"Well, I wouldn't say no to a cappuccino, although I'm not convinced it's the panacea you seem to think it is."
Mario came and went, taking away the dinner plates, and bringing cups of dark, strong cappuccino. And then Chef bustled out with some chocolate truffle cake that was the most rich, sinful concoction Ellie had ever had the pleasure of putting in her mouth. If she ever did have a rehearsal dinner, she'd definitely hire this guy to make the cake.
