“Ready to do it again?” he asks. The little shit knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I nod, wondering if Max and Papa are in any greater jeopardy than I am. At least they’ll be flying in a great big airplane with a grown-up at the controls.
Chapter Fifteen
The shakes from last night’s aerial adventure to Minneapolis are subsiding by the time Penelope and I depart for our weekly partner luncheon at The Sandwich Emporium. We’re still shoehorned into our strip-mall offices while we await completion of the future law offices of Brooks and Valenti on this, day ninety-three of what our general contractor had confidently assured us would be a ninety-day project. As I recall, he’d scoffed at the possibility that they’d take the whole ninety days to get the work done. I stopped by our future digs on the way in this morning. To my admittedly unpracticed eye, things seem to be maybe fifty percent along.
Maiko Campbell looks up when the tinkle of the door chime announces our arrival. She breaks into one of those smiles that casts light into black holes. “Tony-san! Penelope!”
“That’s us,” Penelope replies with an answering smile. The combined wattage of these two smiling is probably as dangerous as looking directly at a solar eclipse.
My eyes immediately travel to the chalkboard and today’s eagerly anticipated daily special creation, then drop back to Maiko, over to Brian Campbell, and back to the chalkboard. “Corned beef on rye?”
“Complain to the wholesalers!” Maiko gripes. “No good sales this morning, Tony-san. Even the corned beef wasn’t such a good deal.”
“This is disappointing,” I mutter dramatically. “Guess I’ll have the corned beef on rye. Mind you,” I add with a sideways glance at Penelope, “we could have gotten that at any old deli counter for half the price.”
Penelope smiles at Maiko. “I happen to like corned beef on rye. I’ll take one…. without the side of whining.”
Maiko winks at her. “Coming right up. Go, sit down. Your usual table is ready.”
We make our way to the back and settle in at our little table, set for two today instead of the trio of place settings Maiko had squeezed in when Pat O’Toole and Ben Larose joined me a couple of weeks ago. I make a show of breathing in the sweet aroma of Brian’s baking bread and licking my lips. “I’m starving.”
“What happened to all the complaining about corned beef?” Penelope asks.
I shrug.
She gives me an indulgent look and shakes her head. “You read my notes?”
The FBI’s interrogation of our R & B Ramp Services clients had shaken us badly, prompting Penelope to dig more deeply into the peculiarities of aviation lawsuits. The result is a detailed briefing paper to guide our planning. We also sent off an indignant pro forma complaint to the FBI about their agents attempting to interrogate our clients without first reading them their Miranda rights. I imagine it’s now under careful review by the shredding department.
I nod in reply to Penelope’s briefing-notes question while tearing the paper away from the tip of the straw sitting at my place setting.
“Don’t!” Penelope warns as I lift the open end of the straw to my lips and blow, shooting the tube of paper across the table. “You’re such a child!” she exclaims with a laugh after she ducks out of the way.
I beam back at her.
She straightens up and dons her serious lawyer face. “Let’s get to work.”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes!” she retorts with mock exasperation. At least I think it’s mock. “I talked to Ben Larose yesterday. I think you’re right about tagging him as an expert witness.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “For a couple of reasons.”
“Such as?”
“He knows his stuff. I also trust that he’s on the side of the angels.”
I bounce my eyebrows. “That’s us?”
She does the adorable little nose twitch that signals when she’s amused. “Of course. Well, me, anyway.”
I smile back. How is it that this woman doesn’t have a significant other? I’ve never seen her with anyone other than her roommate, Becky Seguin. Oh well. None of my business. Back to the matter at hand. “What did Larose have to say?”
“Based on what I told him about the FBI interview, he agrees that the FBI—and possibly the NTSB—must have concerns about the hundred-hour inspection that should have been completed in August.”
“That was completed in August,” I counter. “Billy showed us the paperwork and invoice.”
She thoughtfully taps a finger on her nose with her chin in her hand. “I know, and yet they’re zeroing in on that. There’s something there.”
Shit. She has to be right. Why else would the FBI be so interested in the topic? “You’re supposed to be showing me the bright side of things, you know,” I remind her.
“It’s not all doom and gloom, partner.”
Maiko bustles over while I sigh in relief. “Corned beef on rye for Miss Brooks,” she announces with a flourish as she places a paper plate in front of Penelope. Then she smiles at me and deposits a second plate under my nose. “And for Tony-san, who does not like a simple sandwich, we have a true daily special! Corned beef on raisin!”
I burst into laughter when I look down to see a slab of corned beef squeezed between two slices of raisin toast.
“You deserve that, Tony,” Penelope laughs. “Well done, Maiko!”
I smile up at Maiko. “I’ll bet it tastes good!”
She wrinkles her nose. “If nothing else, perhaps you’ll learn not to complain about the food here.”
“Go ahead,” Penelope urges with a pointed look at my sandwich while Maiko scoots away to collect our beverages.
However this tastes, I will rave about it, I decide as
