“Our car’s blocking the driveway. I’m coming with you.”
Judith waited, though it took only seconds until her
cousin was in the Joneses’ Toyota Camry. A moment
later Renie was reversing out into the foggy cul-de-sac.
“It’s just as well to take your car,” Judith said, fastening her seat belt. “It’s newer than my Subaru.
Maybe the parking attendants at Capri’s won’t act so
snooty.”
“They aren’t as snooty as they used to be,” Renie
replied, heading onto Heraldsgate Avenue. The fog had
settled in over the hill, making it difficult to see more
than twenty feet ahead. Though Renie had a reputation—which she claimed was unearned—for driving
too fast and erratically, she crept along the thoroughfare. “With all the new money in this town,” she said,
“especially among the younger set, it’s hard to tell a
millionaire from a millworker.”
Capri’s was located on the east side of the hill,
closer to Renie’s house than to the B&B. The cousins
climbed Heraldsgate Avenue to the commercial district
on the flat, then kept going north into a sloping residential neighborhood. They turned right in the direction of the restaurant, but within four blocks, Renie
took a left.
“Hey!” Judith cried. “What are we doing?”
“You do nothing,” Renie said. “I change clothes. I
can’t go into Capri’s wearing this Loyola University
sweatshirt and these black pants. They have a hole in
them, in case you haven’t noticed, which maybe you
haven’t because I’m wearing black underwear.”
“Good grief.” Judith held her head. “Okay, but don’t
take long.”
Sitting in the car, she studied her own attire. The
green wool slacks matched the green cable-knit turtleneck. Her shoes were fairly new, having been purchased at Nordquist’s annual women’s sale. She
supposed she could pass at Capri’s for a real customer.
As she continued to wait, Judith’s mind wandered
back to Bill’s chart. Someone was missing. Who, besides the Alien Suspect? The answer came to mind almost immediately. Vito Patricelli wasn’t represented
among Bruno’s satellites. But it appeared that he
hadn’t arrived in the city until this morning. Was that
true? Judith used her cell phone to dial one of the airlines that served passengers from L.A.
“We have no one named Patricelli on our manifests
in the last three days,” the pert voice said.
Judith tried the other connecting carriers and got the
same negative result. Maybe Vito had flown north by
private plane.
She was about to call Boring Field, where many of
the smaller aircraft landed, when Renie reappeared
wearing a great deal of brown suede, including her
pants, jacket, ankle boots, and handbag. She also wore
a brown cashmere sweater.
