Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends on your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant

 

“I can’t believe this place,” Amy enthused, as she swallowed the last of her soup. “This has to be the best cream of mushroom soup I’ve ever eaten.”

Sean nodded in reply as he pushed his now-empty bowl of chowder away. “Yep, my corn crab soup was nice and spicy, just the way I like it.”

“I can’t get over what a great ---” Amy stopped abruptly as she stared at the front door.

“What is it?” Sean asked.

“Not what, who,” she hissed. “You’ll never believe who just walked in the front door.”

“Richard Hoffman?” he ventured.

She shook her head. “Charlie Prescott. And get this, guess who is not with him?”

“Not with him? You must mean Mitsy Thornhill.” Sean turned to look.

“Don’t look,” she cautioned, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s an attractive brunette, probably older than Mitsy by at least five years. She looks vaguely familiar. “

“Let me look,” he said. “Maybe I’ll recognize her.”

“Just wait a moment, while they decide who’s going to sit where.” She paused. “Look now, they’re being seated and they must be meeting someone because they’ve been put at a table for four. I wish they were closer so we could hear them.”

“Are they seated on my way to the wash room?”

Amy glanced around before answering. “Yes. Why? Do you feel the need to wash your hands?”

“I do, but I think I’ll wait until the rest of their party arrives. Could you take pictures of them with your PDA without them realizing?”

Amy nodded. “I have a clear view.”

“Take one now and then another later. If nothing else, we can show them to Belden tomorrow.”

Amy laughed as if Sean had made a funny remark and then gave him an apologetic smile as she fished out her PDA. She peered at the unit as if checking the caller ID display before bringing the unit to her ear.

“Hello?” she said softly and then shaking her head, she gave a posed rueful look at Sean.

“I guess they hung up.” She moved the unit as if to delete the record of the call and carefully snapped a picture. “Got it.”

“You ever do undercover work?” Sean asked quietly.

“Just once,” she replied. “It was pretty minor.”

“You’re good. Anyone watching would have never realized you took a picture instead of a phone call. You almost fooled me, and I knew what you were doing.”

“Thanks.”

The pair paused as the waiter delivered their meals. The piping hot plates of food distracted them both for a few moments. Amy’s mouth watered at the sight of her shrimp kabobs. The hefty skewers of shrimp and vegetables on a steaming heap of seasoned brown rice looked to be a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach. Sean attempted to refrain from licking his lips at the site of his thick prime rib smothered with brandy soaked mushrooms.

After they each tasted their entrees and complimented the food, Sean asked if Charlie and his date were still alone.

“It looks like the other party is arriving right now,” she admitted, picking up her glass of water and taking a sip. “Dark haired, middle-aged man, about forty-eight, wearing a Bill Blass suit with a pink tie and Italian shoes. He’s secure in his masculinity. The brunette female with him must be his wife. She’s well dressed in a simple black dress, looks to be designer. Her shoes are expensive. My guess is she probably bought them on a shopping spree last fall along with a few sets of fine Italian cotton 1500-count sheets.”

“Why do you think she’s his wife?” Sean asked.

“They’re both wearing rings on their left hands. She has some very fine lines around her eyes. She must be a keeper, and thus his wife.” Amy shrugged. “They have the look.”

“Will you be able to get a picture?” he asked.

“Not a good one, she admitted. “Their backs are to me. But I can probably do it on the way back from the powder room after we finish.” She speared another expertly prepared shrimp. “Are we getting dessert?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I just caught a glimpse of the dessert tray.”

 

 

“Wow! That looks scrumptious,” Trixie enthused as her plate of sesame-coated sea bass was placed in front of her. “That soup will be hard to top. What did you say it was?”

“Don’t ask, Trixie,” Matthew warned. “I’ve learned it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Don’t be silly, Matthew,” Grace chided. “It was lemon grass and ginger soup. Our cook has been delighting us of late with some of her original recipes.”

“I’m not even going to ask what lemon grass is!” Jim laughed.

“Exactly, my son. It’s better if we don’t know.”

There was a silence as they began to eat, but after a moment, Grace smoothly initiated conversation into the meal.

“Matthew, Trixie and I were talking on the way back from the tea today.”

“Oh, how was the tea, dear? How many reputations did you and Tammy shred this afternoon?”

“The tea was fine, although you know very well that Tammy and I don’t dish, we simply listen.” She smiled sweetly. “Seriously, Matthew, don’t you think it’s time you and Trixie met to discuss her taking a look at the security protocols for Wheeler International?”

Trixie shifted and crossed her legs. She had dreaded this moment from the beginning of her assignment.

“No, it’s not time.” He put his fork down and picked up his wine glass, pausing to take a sip. “It’s past time. I’m never going to live down the fact that Warren got to her before I did. He reminds me of it every time we have lunch together.” Matthew shook his head ruefully. “Do you think you could manage to fit me into your busy schedule, Trixie?”

“My busy schedule?” she squeaked, picking up her water glass and taking a sip. “Your schedule is much busier than mine. When’s a good time for you?”

“I’m rather busy at the first of the week, but how about the middle of the week? Generally, I have a rule against Monday appointments anyway.”

Trixie mentally reviewed her schedule and nodded. “That should be fine. Do you prefer morning or afternoon?”

“Morning, about nine?” he suggested.

“That’s good for me. I’ll be at your office then.”

“Will Sean be working with you on this one?” Jim asked.

“Sean? Who’s Sean?” Matthew asked.

Trixie shot Jim a look of annoyance. “Sean Barnes is a former agent. He and another agent, Amy Freeman, are working with me.”

“I had no idea that you’d already hired some employees,” Matthew remarked. “Warren wasn’t kidding when he told me you’d do well in New York.”

“They’re not permanent employees,” Trixie explained. “Both of them wanted to relocate to New York and since I’ve been so busy, they’re helping out for a while. It’s not permanent, just a temporary solution to a short-term problem.”

“By the way, Jim,” Grace interjected. “Trixie and I did hear some interesting gossip today.”

Trixie choked and grabbed her water glass.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked.

Trixie nodded as she took another sip of water.

“What gossip did you two hear today?” Matthew asked his wife.

“Mitsy Thornhill is apparently going to work for your friend Mike’s mother, Margaret Gaitley.”

Trixie’s choking resumed full force.

 

 

“Did you get the picture?” Sean asked as Amy sat back down.

“Piece of cake,” she said with a smile.

“That easy, huh?”

“No. I want a piece of cake.” She grinned. “But I got the pictures. Maybe we should run the pictures against the bureau’s facial recognition software.”

Sean laughed. “Maybe you should have stayed in analysis!”

Amy gave a pretend pout. “I was just thinking how cool it would be if we got a hit that she was a suspected terrorist or something.”

“It would be cool,” he admitted. “But probably not. We can do it in the morning if you want. Belden’s not meeting with us until two.”

“What’s up with her going back to Sleepyside?” Amy asked.

“Said she was following a lead,” he answered, nodding to the waiter.

Both of them ordered dessert. “Don’t you wonder what’s going on at Charlie’s table?” Amy asked. She held up a hand. “Hang on. The younger woman is going to the ladies’ room. She just finished her dinner. Twenty bucks says she’s going to purge.”

“How would you know?” he asked.

“Never mind,” she leaned back with a frown. “The other woman’s going, too. She won’t do it with her there.” She watched carefully. “But …”

“What?” he asked.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Amy stood up and made her way to the ladies’ room. She didn’t think the two women would have noticed she had just come back from that particular location.

She slipped into the stark washroom and unobtrusively let herself into the only available stall. Quietly sitting on the toilet, she pulled her feet up and listened. Within a few moments the conversation started over the hand washing and lipstick refresh.

“Have you known Charlie for long?” Amy knew it had to be the older woman.

“About five years,” the younger one replied.

“Oh, I see. You know, John was under the impression that Charlie was serious about that young woman, the petite blonde, Melissa I think her name is. Did he get it all wrong? You know how men are.”

“They’re just pals. They’ve known each other all their lives, but there’s nothing serious between them.” The young voice paused before asking. “Have you and John been married long?”

“Twenty-three years,” she answered.

“Wow. I can’t imagine. Any kids?”

“Two. A boy and a girl. “

“Wow. I can’t imagine that either!”

The conversation continued innocuously, but Amy had keyed the pertinent information into her PDA. She wondered if her boss would be surprised to hear that Charlie Prescott was just another typical male player.