Part 14 (1/2)
”The missing waitress?” Angie asked innocently.
Connie stood mute.
”Don't play dumb,” the woman countered. ”I saw her and your neighbor on the dock. I saw the way she looked at him. I don't know who else she would have gone to.”
Angie looked heavenward. What did those two do on the dock, for pity's sake? ”Who are you?” she demanded.
”Gail Leer. My husband owns Athina. I'm Hannah's friend. Her only friend.” Gail looked over her shoulder back toward the restaurant. ”Let's walk. Let's cross the street and head away from the wharf.”
Angie and Connie followed as she led them down a block. ”I'm worried about her,” Gail said when they were out of sight of the restaurant. ”Her baby is due and I know she doesn't have any money or relatives around. I want to help. I'd planned to tell her that, but before I could, she disappeared.”
”She didn't know you wanted to help?” Angie asked.
Gail chewed her bottom lip. ”I never put it in so many words. I guess I thought she understood. Where is she?” She twisted her fingers with agitation. ”I was sure she'd gone to your neighbor for help, especially since I saw him here several times. Something about her makes some men want to protect her, take care of her. And, in other cases, to use her.” She shut her eyes as if trying to erase some ugly memory. ”She's a sweet girl, an innocent, which is hard to believe in this day and age. Where is she?”
”If she's so sweet, innocent, and loved, why would she leave and not tell anyone?” Angie asked. ”Especially in her condition. Was she afraid of something? Someone?”
Gail's gaze darted from side to side. ”I...I don't know. I've asked myself what I could have done to help her.”
”If you were a friend, why didn't she go to you for help?” Angie asked. ”Me and my neighbor are strangers to her. I don't see a pregnant woman wanting a stranger to help her when she has friends, do you?”
”You think I'm lying about being her friend?” Gail shook her head woefully. ”I'm not! I loved her like a daughter! Now, though...now she's gone and I don't know where. I've got to find her! She might be in danger.”
”Danger from what?” Angie asked.
Gail paused, searching their faces. When she answered, her tone had become stiff and formal. ”The baby's due anytime. Without help, it's a dangerous situation.”
Angie caught Connie's eye. Even Connie realized Gail was lying.
”She can trust me,” Gail pleaded. ”You-both of you-can trust me. I wouldn't hurt her. I'd protect her. Please tell me what you know.”
”Protect her from what?” Angie asked.
Gail shook her head again. ”I don't know,” she murmured. ”You don't understand.”
”Why do you think I know where she is?” Angie asked.
”Because I know Hannah!” With that, her frustration getting the better of her, she spun on her heel and headed back toward the restaurant.
Angie and Connie watched her a moment, then got into Angie's car.
”What are you going to do?” Connie asked. ”Something awful is going on at that restaurant. I can feel it.”
”That woman worries me,” Angie said. ”There's a lot she isn't telling us.”
Chapter 16.
Angie stood by the main entrance to KQED and waited for Peter to pick her up after another night of persuading people to bid for the dinners and pledge their support. He was late. Tonight's cooking extravaganza had been three hours of Yan Can Cook. She never wanted to see anyone julienne bamboo shoots again.
Tonight, none of the restaurateurs knew her or her mother. No, that was wrong. One of them remembered a rather negative review she'd once written about him for Haute Cuisine. Talk about embarra.s.sing!
She was just about to call the cab company again when the taxi arrived. Someone other than Peter got out and headed for the building. He wore a baseball cap pulled low on his brow, his collar turned up, and dark gla.s.ses.
She stuck her head out the door. ”Who are you looking for?”
”Angie Amalfi,” he said.
”That's me.” She didn't like the guy's looks, but it was late and taxi drivers didn't necessarily dress for the cover of GQ. She got into the cab. ”Where's Peter? The dispatcher said he was already on his way when I called.”
”I think he broke down. I was told to come get you.”
She guessed she should expect such things to happen.
The driver started up the cab. ”Where to?” he asked.
”You aren't going to drive with those gla.s.ses on, are you?”
”The glare,” he said.
”Glare? What glare? We're the only ones out here. It's after midnight.”
”Where to?” he repeated.
”The corner of Green and Jones.”
He nodded and started up.
Something made her uneasy. He put on the radio to KJAZ. John Coltrane played ”Soul Eyes.”
To her relief, he drove directly to her apartment building and parked. ”That's where you live?” he asked.
”Yes.”
”Big building. Are you up very high?”
”Yes.” She handed him some money and he started to pull out some change.
”Doesn't it make you nervous being in earthquake country and all? Or with terrorists possibly targeting this city? You aren't on the top floor, are you?”
She was, but something made her not want to admit it. ”I worry more about crossing the street in heavy traffic.” She took out a couple of dollars for his tip and quickly hurried from the cab into her building. The building manager locked the front door this time of night. As soon as she got in, she locked the door behind her.
She hadn't realized how quickly she'd moved or that she'd been holding her breath.
Silly, she told herself. There was no reason to be so nervous around the cabdriver. So he wasn't Peter. So what?
”Angie,” Paavo said softly. ”Wake up.”