A jukebox, playing a catchy country tune, sat off in the corner. A few of the diners cast an uninterested glance in their direction. Near the front door was a sign, “Seat Yourself.”
Carlita followed Mercedes as they squeezed past a few tight spots to a table for three. The menus were tucked in behind the napkin holders.
Upon closer inspection, the items were almost identical to Sandy Sue’s. A server appeared, order pad in hand. “Welcome to Big Hog’s. Is this your first time here?”
“It is,” Carlita said.
“We’re glad you’re giving us a try.” The woman rattled off the daily specials, took their drink order and then left.
She returned a short time later and set their drinks on the table. “Have you decided?”
“We have.” Carlita waited for Mercedes to place her order. “This is a neat restaurant. Have you been here long?”
“Decades. This is a family-owned business, serving the area’s best barbecue since the sixties. A food show recently featured us.”
“No kidding,” Carlita said. “How did you manage to get on television?”
“I don’t know the details. Gordon, the owner, would know more. He’s over there behind the bar.”
Carlita cast a quick glance in that direction. She thanked the woman and waited for her to leave. “Too bad we can’t get Ravello’s on a food show. Maybe I should ask him how that works.”
“And then what?” Mercedes asked. “Tell him you own Ravello’s, the restaurant across the street from his sister’s place? That will make him want to share any tips he might have.”
“True.” Carlita drummed her fingers on the table. “I can’t pass up the opportunity. I’m gonna ask him, anyway.”
When their food arrived, Carlita inhaled hers and then shoved her chair back. “I gotta find out how he got this place on the radar.” She approached the counter and waited until she caught the owner’s eye. “Hello.”
“Good afternoon,” Coldwater politely smiled.
“Our server told us your restaurant was recently featured on a food show.”
“It was. It aired a couple of weeks ago on ‘Roadside Restaurants. The best eats in the south episode.’”
Carlita motioned to the crowded dining room. “I bet it helped boost business.”
“It sure did.”
“How did you end up on the show, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Carlita Garlucci. I gotta confess. I own a restaurant in Savannah and would love the publicity.”
“What’s your restaurant’s name?”
Carlita had been waiting for the question, even expecting it. “Ravello’s Italian Eatery.”
“Ravello’s Italian Eatery.” Coldwater repeated the name. If it rang a bell, he gave no indication he recognized it. “There’s a website you can go to, to enter your restaurant’s information and submit it online.” He grabbed a napkin and jotted it down before handing it to her.
Carlita glanced at it. “Thank you. By the way, your food is delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, and you’re welcome.”
Mercedes watched her mother make her way back to their table. “He told you how he did it?”
“Yep. He gave me the website and everything. I told him the name of our restaurant. I don’t think he put two and two together.” While Mercedes finished her food, Carlita paid for the meal.
On their way home, they drove past Sandy Sue’s. The parking lot was nearly empty – a stark contrast to Big Hog’s.
Similar to Sandy Sue’s, Ravello’s had only a couple of cars parked out front.
“Don’t worry, Ma. I’m sure now that spring is here, foot traffic will pick up.” Mercedes turned into the alley and parked next to Tony’s car. There was another vehicle, this one in Elvira’s lot, and parked on the end.
“I wonder whose car that is.” Carlita grabbed her purse and wandered over, studying the back of the vehicle. There was something about it. She glanced at the rearview window and then the license plate. Her heart skipped a beat. “Hey, Mercedes. Get over here.”
Chapter 19
Carlita stared at the South Carolina license plate belonging to Ava Whalen.
Mercedes joined her. “Elvira’s gonna pitch a fit if she comes home and finds someone parked in one of her spots.”
“This is the vehicle Shelby got into the night she left.”
Mercedes made a choking sound. “She’s here?”
“I would bet money on it.” Carlita cast a wary glance toward the apartment. “She knows Tony’s at work and doesn’t think anyone would recognize this vehicle.”
“What are you gonna do?”
On the one hand, Carlita thought Tony should know his wife had returned. On the other, Carlita suspected Shelby was there to “grab and go.” A confrontation between them might prove disastrous.
“You wait here,” Carlita said. “I’m gonna run upstairs to see if Shelby is in the apartment.”
There was a sick feeling in the pit of Carlita’s stomach as she climbed the stairs. She reached the landing and found the apartment door was closed. Carlita twisted the doorknob. The door was locked. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before rapping loudly.
No one answered.
She tried knocking again, this time louder. “Shelby, it’s me, Carlita. I know you’re in there.” Carlita could’ve sworn she heard a muffled thump, followed by silence.
Not ready to give up, she tried again. “Shelby! Please open the door.”
The door slowly opened. Shelby, her face pale and drawn, stood on the other side. “How did you know I was here?”
Carlita ignored the question. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
The door opened a little wider. “Does Tony know I’m here?”
“No. Just me ‘n Mercedes.”
Carlita caught a glimpse of a woman, in her forties if she had to guess, standing near the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”
“Grabbing some things for Violet and me. I’m not staying…long.”
“I figured as much.”
