5 Windy City Hunter (6 page)

“Sure,” I said.

The eggs would be fine in the bowl until he came back. There were several restaurant menus on top of the microwave, and I perused several of them while I waited. All of the restaurants delivered, so I assumed Jack had placed them there for us.

True to his word, Darby was sitting at the table fifteen minutes later.

After breakfast, we bundled up and went down to the lobby. I waited while he went out to scrape snow off the car and check driving conditions.

Emma was behind the receptionist counter, and Terry was outside. I stood beside the counter and said, “Good morning, Emma. How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” she said. But her sad eyes and facial expression implied she wasn’t.

My maternal instinct kicked in. “What’s wrong, Emma? Is it Mrs. Fisher?”

Tears came to her eyes as she said, “Yes. I can’t believe someone murdered her. How did they get in or out of the building and her condo? The police took our security tapes before Andy had a chance to review them, but he said he could tell someone had been messing with them, and they were out of order. I know he feels guilty. Visitors come and go, but Andy doesn’t remember anyone suspicious last night. No one will tell us anything, so we don’t know if it was a break-in gone wrong, or if the killer knew her. And it’s frightening not knowing if the killer will come back.” She grabbed a tissue from a box and wiped her eyes.

“Were you close with Mrs. Fisher?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “We hardly ever saw her, and she wasn’t one for chatting. Her assistant took care of everything she needed. She wouldn’t allow any family to come visit. She said they were all after her diamonds and her money. The only person she spent any time with at all was Jack Tapley, and I think she did that because he’s gorgeous, and he doted on her and made her feel special. At least those are the rumors - not the gorgeous part, because he is gorgeous, but the doting and the special part.” She smiled a little smile. “Have you met Jack?”

“No, but Darby’s pretty good looking himself, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Oh, for sure,” she said, “but Jack makes you swoon, and then you can’t find your voice, and when it does come out, you’re all tongue-tied and say stupid things, and then you’re embarrassed, and his eyes twinkle like crazy, and his smile melts you, and …” Her voice died off. She blushed brighter than any blush I’d ever seen.

I started to giggle. It struck me as funny that we had gone from Emma nearly in tears over a murder to swooning over Darby’s uncle’s hotness.

I coughed and choked back the laughter. “Emma, I don’t think I’ll have the chance to meet Darby’s uncle while we’re here. We’re leaving Sunday night, and he won’t be back by then.”

She seemed to have her emotions under control now. Darby came through the doorway and started stamping his feet.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sorry for my lapse, Susan. I’m happily married and all, but that Jack Tapley turns me to jelly inside.”

I started to giggle again. Darby looked mildly alarmed and said, “You ok, Sunshine? The car’s cleaned off and warming up. Are you ready to go?”

Emma started laughing, and we were like two school girls carrying on over some cute guy, and I didn’t even know him. Darby rolled his eyes, but he smiled at both of us, grabbed my arm, and said, “See you later, Emma,” as he propelled me out the door.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said still laughing. “Just some silly girl stuff.”

It was a few minutes after 10:00 when we parked the car on the Magnificent Mile for our shopping excursion. It was cold, but the sun was shining, the walks were shoveled, and we were ready to go.

Three and a half hours later, we had shoppe
d our way through Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus, Crate & Barrel, Louis Vuitton, and The Disney Store, where I bought plush animals of each character from Winnie-the-Pooh. Whether the baby was a boy or a girl, there was going to be plenty of Winnie-the-Pooh items in the nursery. We bypassed Tiffany’s, not because we wanted to, but because we were running out of time.

Both of us had almost all of our Christmas shopping completed before arriving in Chicago, but we were like kids in candy stores as we piled up more gifts and heavily taxed our credit cards. Shopping with Darby was like shopping with a girlfriend, and we had a fun morning oohing and ahhing over each other’s purchases.

Registering and seeing Darby’s cooking space at the Wilder Hotel had been exciting, but now we were parking within walking distance of Ditka’s Restaurant. Once again, I felt like I was famished. It was almost as though once my body knew food was nearby, it went into overdrive with cravings.

I loved walking into a new restaurant for the first time. There was always a new decor to enjoy, new smells, and even new sounds. Ditka’s was no exception. I had expected a typical sports bar with big screen televisions, but I was pleasantly surprised to see the restaurant had a casual meets classy ambiance. There was a bar area with televisions, but also a dining area with white tablecloths and napkins.

The hostess was cheerful as she greeted us and led us to what appeared to be the only empty table in the room. The atmosphere was upbeat and festive. It seemed as if all faces were smiling, and everyone was in a holiday mood.

We scanned the menu for our favorite Reuben sandwiches, but I was secretly glad when they weren’t on the menu. I wanted something different today.

We both ordered raspberry iced tea and a bowl of crab bisque. I chose a bleu cheese burger, while Darby opted for the filet mignon sliders.

“I have to find the restroom,” I told him. “I won’t be able to drink anything if I don’t go now.”

We looked around and saw a sign indicating the restrooms were upstairs. I made my way across the room, but just as I reached the stairs, a man coming from the direction of the bar stepped in front of me and rushed up them. At first, I was irritated by his rudeness, but then it dawned on me that he was familiar. He was wearing a gray hoodie, black jeans, and white tennis shoes. He looked like the man from the condo.

He had to be considered a suspect in the murder of Mrs. Fisher, and I debated about rushing back to Darby for Detective Malloy’s business card to alert him to the man’s presence, but I wanted to see what he was up to. I walked slowly up the stairs.

I stood on the top stair and scanned the upper dining area until I spotted the man. I was confused by what I saw. He was sitting with his back to me at a table along the wall, and the other man at the table was Wes! I dropped back a step and hugged the wall in an effort to be inconspicuous. A few people moved past me up or down the stairs, but I didn’t move or take my eyes off the two men.

Wes was frowning, but he didn’t seem angry. The man slid something across the table to him. It appeared to be a small pouch. Wes opened it, looked inside, and slipped it into his pocket. A waiter arrived with a beer and a plate of nachos and set both down in front of Wes. He spoke to the man in the gray hoodie who, in turn, responded with a shake of his head. When the waiter left, Wes pulled an envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table to the man. The man didn’t look
inside; he simply tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie, stood up, and turned toward the stairs. I quickly turned around and started back down. The man was moving so fast, he passed me before I reached the bottom.

I didn’t follow him. I stood on the stairs for a minute. I had just seen something, but what? Was it a payoff? Did the man know Mrs. Fisher had been murdered, and did he tell Wes? Is that why Wes was at the condo when we arrived? None of this made sense, and I still had to use the restroom. I ran my hands over my tunic and pants as though I needed to straighten myself out, and I started back up the stairs.

After stepping into the room, I paused for a minute to look around to see where the restrooms were. As I scanned the room, my eyes naturally crossed Wes’s table, and I saw he was staring at me. I tried to act normal, and I gave him a smile and a little wave. He didn’t smile in return. His face remained stony as he raised his hand and gave me the
I’m watching you
sign. What a jerk!

I found the restroom, and, of course, there was a line.

“What took you so long?” Darby asked when I sat down again. Our iced tea and soup was already on the table.

“Line in the restroom,” I said.

“Well, the waitress just brought the soup, so it’s still hot,” he said.

The soup was delicious, and I enjoyed it, but I was having a hard time making small. I kept watching the stairs, waiting for Wes to come down. There wasn’t any reason to watch for him, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

“Susan. Susan!” Darby said my name the second time a little louder.

“What?” I asked with my eyes wide. I knew I was distracted, and he must have said something a little nodding couldn’t cover. I felt guilty.

“Can you hear me ok?” he asked. “I’ve asked you three times if you thought the bisque was fresh or frozen, and you keep saying uh-huh. What gives?”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m trying to pay attention, but I’ve been watching for Wes to come down the stairs. I saw him at a table upstairs.”

“So?” he asked. “Why do you care that Wes is upstairs? He obviously works in the area, and he might even be working at the condo today.”

“I saw something else, too,” I said softly.

He instantly clapped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes. “Susan Hunter Raines, you did not see anything,” he said adamantly. He removed his hands and opened his eyes.

“But I did,” I protested. “I saw the man who was wearing the gorilla head.”

Darby sighed, reached over, and grasped my hand into both of his. His voice had a pleading tone as he said, “You didn’t see anything. There was nothing to see in this restaurant. You cannot in any way, shape, or form see anything or get involved in anything. You don’t want to be involved with the police or an insurance investigator. My cooking contest is tomorrow, and I need you. Do you hear me? I need you. Mick is in England, and it’s a miracle he let you come with me after what happened in New Orleans. Are you hearing me now? You didn’t see anything, did you?”

I clenched my lips together. I wanted to argue with him, but there was good reasoning behind what he was saying. I had held back from telling Mick about the murder for many of the same reasons.

“All right,” I said. “I didn’t see anything.”

He let go of my hand, smiled, and said, “Thank you.”

Our sandwiches arrived, and I tried to concentrate on my food and engage in conversation, but knowing I had seen something that wasn’t quite right, with no one to tell, left me with an unsettled feeling. By the time we finished our meal and paid our bill, Wes had still not come downstairs.

We were quiet on the short ride back to the condo. I broke the silence by saying, “I’m tired. I think I’m going to take a nap. What time are we leaving tonight?”

“We don’t have to leave the condo until about 7:45,” he said. “The opening reception starts at 8:00, so you’ll have plenty of time to rest.”

I nodded. After the hearty lunch, the fatigue was coming on fast, and it seemed an effort to talk.

He pulled in front of the condo, and Terry was instantly at my door and offering his arm.

I smiled at the cheerful man and asked, “Terry, do you work twenty-four hours a day? When do you get time off?”

“I don’t need time off, Susan,” he said. “A good doorman is always at his door.”

I stopped on the sidewalk and stared at him with my mouth hanging open a bit. Maybe he really was a retired Santa Claus.

He threw his head back and laughed a jolly, belly laugh. “Susan, you look like you believe me,” he said still laughing. “I do work twelve hour days from nine in the morning until nine at night, but my days vary. I’ll be working every day while you’re here, and Benny is the night doorman. You’ll meet him this evening when you go out.”

He opened the door, and we stepped inside. Emma was still behind the desk, and her face lit up with a smile when she saw me. We had a connection now, but I hoped we wouldn’t be talking about Darby’s Uncle again. I didn’t need another laughing jag.

Terry leaned against Emma’s counter and said to me, “I hear you had quite a start yesterday with seeing Mrs. Fisher dead on the floor.”

Emma gasped. “You saw the crime scene?”

“We did,” I acknowledged, “but only for a few moments. Darby and I ran into our condo. We didn’t want to get involved.”

“Did Martha say anything to you?” Terry asked.

“Martha?” I asked. “Was that the woman who opened the door to Mrs. Fisher’s condo and screamed?”

Terry nodded and said, “If she had a key, it was her. She’s Penelope’s assistant. Penelope purchased one of the smaller condos in the building for her to live in, but Martha spends most of her time in Penelope’s.”

“Why wasn’t she with her when Mrs. Fisher was murdered?” I asked.

“Nobody knows,” Emma said.

“Nobody knows anything around here,” Terry said. “The police are being tight-lipped, and we’re having a hard time finding out anything. That’s why I wondered if she said anything to you or Darby.”

“No,” I said. “That scream of hers was enough to wake the dead, and we took off.”