Coffee & Crime (16 page)

"You heading out?"

I hooked my arm through Manny's and guided him toward the office. "Let's talk."

I closed the door and Manny sprawled in his chair like he had no bones in his body. I propped against the wall because there was no place to sit. The office was a converted pantry and barely accommodated a desk, chair, filing cabinet and a couple of wall-mounted shelves. His desk was littered with empty to go cups, packing slips, invoices, and guest checks. The clutter drove me crazy but Manny liked it that way and it had never been clean in all the years I'd worked for him. Manny rocked back in his seat and leaned an elbow on the desk. "Whassup chica?"

"That's what I want to know." I wagged my finger at him. "Tell me the truth."

Manny yawned and propped his feet on the desk. "Been a long day, Scotti. Don't make me work for it."

"We had a deal. Then out of the blue you tell me there's another buyer? What's that about? How could you even consider selling to somebody else?" I paused but Manny said nothing. I pushed off the wall and paced the tiny room. "I'm totally invested in this place. I haven't spent the last five years busting my ass for nothing, right? I make the soups, the pastries
—
run your dining room..." I threw up my hands. "I don't know how else to prove to you that I'm serious about this. I thought we were on the same page. That you wanted me to have the place. Now what? I have to compete with some stranger to get what you promised me?" I blew out a sigh. "And you wait to bring it up when we're six weeks out? Why?"

Manny scratched the dark stubble on his chin. "Five weeks now," he murmured. I said nothing. Manny bared his big white teeth and shrugged. "It ain't personal. I know you work hard. I know you want this place
—
you don't gotta prove that to me. I like you, Scotti
—
you're good people. But this is business and I gotta have a backup plan."

I shouldn't have been but I was surprised by his indifference. "Because you don't believe in me?"

Manny pawed around his desk for coffee but all the cups were empty. "I gotta get outta L.A., Scotti. I gotta get back home." I sighed. He flipped his hand at me. "Don't give me that face. I shoulda been back to Miami last year. But because I'm your friend I say, 'Okay, I'll wait.' And now you're acting all hurt that I wanna get going? I got pressure too. If I don't go this time, then I lose my spot at my uncle's villa. He'll give it to Pedro. He acts already like it's his." He frowned. "I hate that guy."

Manny's family wanted him back in Miami to run a resort hotel they'd bought and renovated. But the motivating factor wasn't the resort
—
it was a woman that Manny knew back in Cuba. His first love, Maria, had moved to Miami. He didn't give a crap about moving up the food chain in the seaside resort business. His real concern was that some slick Guapo would steal Maria away before he could woo her back into his arms. And his cousin Pedro was the kind of Guapo who'd stab Manny in the back while he smiled to his face.

"I know, Manny. You hate this place." I looked around the dingy room and beamed. "But I love it."

Manny shook his head. "Why you want this place so bad Scotti?"

"Because I want something that's mine. All mine."

Manny looked touched then got a grip of his machismo and snickered. "A headache that's all yours? You don't make no sense." He stood up and patted my shoulder. "I ain't gonna sell it behind your back. That's why I told you there's the other buyer
—
so you're warned, right?" He shrugged. "You got the money in five weeks
—
you got this place. For all your own. Okay? I get my money, you get your diner, we're both happy, si?"

I smiled and nodded.

He looked me in the eye. "But you don't got the money in five weeks, I gotta sell it anyway. Even though we're friends and that ain't gonna make you happy. That's the way it is, chica. Comprendes?" Manny paused at the door and gave me a little grin. "We good, Scotti?"

"As good as we ever were, Manny."

He grunted and walked out to the kitchen. But I hung back and redesigned the office in my head. New built-ins, sunny yellow walls, and fresh flowers on my desk. I believed that if I could keep that image in my head that somehow it would all work out for me.

Debbie snapped her fingers in my face. "Hey Scotti, you in there?"

"What?"

Pointing toward the dining room Debbie said, "Zelda wants you out front." She stared at me for a few seconds then ambled away.

The conversation with Manny didn't make me feel any better and I walked through the kitchen hoping I'd be redecorating in five weeks and not looking for a new job. I couldn't imagine starting over again and I was determined to make this work. George was dead but I wasn't.

When I got out front, Zelda was already idling outside in the jeep. She hit the horn and motioned at me to hurry. I turned and bumped into Debbie, who handed me my jacket and bag. "Better hurry, Zelda wants to go now."

I raised my eyebrows at Debbie. "So I see." I shrugged on my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder. "Do me a favor and leave some cherry pie for the customers, okay?"

Debbie snorted and shook her head. "That's a good one, Scotti."

I went out the front door and climbed into the jeep. "What's the hurry? The church will be open until midnight. There's no rush." We always took the old pies from the diner and gave them to a local church who fed seniors and the homeless.

Zelda pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and dropped them in my lap. She put the jeep in gear and eased into traffic. "Oh, we're not rushing to the church. We're rushing to George's office."

I picked up the key ring in my lap and saw that they were George's. "But it's Sunday
—
nobody will be there."

Zelda glanced at me and grinned. "Exactly."

We roared down the 134 in Zelda’s jeep, toward Pasadena. She shot me a sidelong glance. "Nervous?"

I played with George's key ring and shrugged. It wasn't so much nerves as ethics. Even though we had the keys, could I justify breaking into George's office? I reasoned that since he’d given me the keys, he wanted me to have access to his office. Except that I couldn't get past why he'd done it. Perhaps the answer lie in the phone or files that we couldn't open. I scanned through my last conversations with George, hoping to recall an inference or clue that'd explain his actions. But all our conversations centered on the diner and our plans. Nothing mysterious, nefarious or even odd. Except the briefcase.
Hang onto this until I see you again
.

Zelda shot across three lanes to get to the Colorado exit
—
leaving a chorus of angry horns behind her. She eased off the gas and slowed as we came to the red light at the top of the ramp.

"What about security?" I asked.

The light changed and Zelda zipped through the intersection. "What security?" She cut over to the right lane and turned into George's parking garage. The gate was down. She put out her hand. "Give me George's card." I dropped the keys into her outstretched hand. She rolled down her window, stuck out her hand, and scanned the card. The scanner beeped, went from red to green and the gate lifted. "Nice," Zelda smiled.

"The security that all these buildings have," I said. "Security cameras?"

Zelda pulled the jeep into a slot close to the elevators and peered through the windshield. "I don't see any security cameras."

I pointed to the sign. "This is a reserved spot."

Zelda read the sign. "I'm sure Dr. Singh is off today. Nobody wants their teeth drilled on Sunday." She released her seatbelt and got out of the jeep like it was Christmas morning and she couldn't wait. "Come on."

I got out of the jeep and slammed the door. "Just because there aren't cameras down here doesn't mean there aren't any in George's office." I scanned the garage with cautious eyes. "And just because we don't see cameras down here doesn't mean there aren't any."

“Man you’re full of positivity.” Zelda pushed the call button for the elevator. "You think George put security cameras in his office?" The doors slid open and we stepped into the elevator. "Was he that paranoid?"

I stared at the keys in Zelda's hand. "The activity on that scanner card is probably recorded somewhere too. And George didn't own the building, so he wouldn't have decided whether they had security cameras."

Zelda sighed. "Okay, then let's go home."

The elevator thumped to a stop on the fourth floor and the doors slid open.

"You want to go home?"

Zelda fanned her arms and shrugged. "If you're going to freak out about secret security cameras, then what's the point?" The doors started to close but Zelda put out her arm to keep them open. She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

I huffed and pushed past her out of the elevator. Taking a win, Zelda chuckled and followed me into George's darkened offices. The lush blue carpet swallowed the sound of our footsteps as we walked through the reception area. Looking behind me I said, "This is creepy." The soft grey glow of the rainy afternoon coming through the windows provided light but not much. In the gloom, shadows animated and poised to pounce. "Hello?"

Zelda punched my arm softly. "You're jumpy."

I shrugged. "Maybe Jake is working late. Lawyers are always working late and on the weekends when they have a big case, aren't they?"

Zelda snorted. "According to who?"

"People."

Zelda held her arms out at her sides and did a full turn. "I don't see anybody but us."

Despite Zelda's mocking, I scouted the premises. The last thing we needed was Jake rounding the corner or sneaking up behind us. But my nerves were unfounded because all the office doors were locked, the kitchen and copy room were empty and the only sound was the rain whispering at the windows.

"Satisfied?"

I grabbed the keys from Zelda and unlocked George's office. "We're in and out in twenty minutes. No screwing around."

I took one step into the office and froze when I saw George sitting at his big antique desk and smiling at me. It was only my imagination playing tricks on me but I felt his spirit in that room.

Zelda put her hands on her hips and scowled. "What's the matter now?"

I shook my head. "Just memories of George." Death is a thief you never see coming, but I could sure feel his breath on the back of my neck. "Never mind."

Zelda shook her head and flipped on the lights. Before I took another step, she was across the room at the filing cabinet
—
yanking on the drawers. She snapped her fingers and put out her hand. "Give me those keys."

I crossed the room to the filing cabinet but held the keys to my chest. "Those could be client files. We can't look at them. It's against the law."

Zelda laughed. "We're already breaking and entering genius, what's the diff?" She snatched the keys from me and flipped to a file drawer key. The key fit ,and she pulled open the first drawer. "I love it when I get it on the first time."

Scanning the file tabs, it was clear the files weren't for his clients but rather research of some kind. Zelda shut the drawer with a thump, opened the other three drawers in succession, and found similar files. Disappointed she closed the drawers
—
one, two, three, four, then locked the cabinet.

She went for the two doors on the far side of the room and I drifted over to George's desk. I sat in his chair and said, "So, this is how it feels to be a millionaire." I spun around in the chair surveying George's kingdom. "Nice."

Zelda came out of the closet and rolled her eyes. "What happened to in and out in twenty minutes?" She opened the other door that led to a private wash room. "Quit screwing around and help me."

I watched her from across the room. "What's with you?"

She turned away from the wash room and crossed the room to the desk. "I've got a bad vibe." She bopped me lightly on the head. "You had to mention security cameras?" She fisted and un-fisted her hands as her eyes darted around the room. "Let's do this or go!"

Nausea teased my stomach. She was right, there wasn't time to screw around. We went at George's desk and found some interesting files in his bottom drawer. "Let's copy these." Zelda went deer in the headlights on me. I jerked my thumb toward the door. "There's a copy room down the hall.” I picked up a stack of files. "Grab the rest of those and follow me."

Zelda became more agitated when we discovered the copy machine was locked and required a pass code. "Did this guy password everything in his life?" Zelda looked toward the door like the boogie man lurked outside in the hall. "Jeez."

I knelt down and spread the files out on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

I opened the first file and pulled my phone out of my pocket. "We're going to have to photograph this stuff if we want copies."

We couldn't snap everything but got what looked important. I stacked the files to carry them back to George's office. "Hopefully we got what we needed because we won't get another chance to get in here."

"Why do you say that?"

We carried the files back to the office.

"I don't know but when people die things change." I tried to return the files in their proper place but honestly didn't remember the order they were in before we removed them from the drawer. I locked the drawer and straightened up. "Okay."