Page 82
CHAPTER 80
CINDY TAPPED AN icon on her phone and opened the notes she’d made about FBI agent Brett Palmer. The ma?tre d’, whose name was Maurice, and whom she’d pretended not to recognize, was her source. Maurice was a fan of her column in the Chronicle and had confided to her that Brett Palmer came to San Francisco about once a month and stayed at the Ritz.
According to Maurice, Palmer frequented the lounge here and was known to pick up women who were also staying in the hotel. This had been going on, Maurice guessed, for about three years, which meant that Palmer already had a habit of picking up women while he was still married to Angela Kinney Palmer, wife number two.
A shadow fell across the table and Cindy looked up at a fortyish man dressed in a snappy suit. “Cindy?” he asked, smiling nicely. “I’m Brett. I’m sorry I’m late.”
As he took the chair facing hers, he said, “I’m in the import business. I had to take a call from my client in Singapore, and he was speaking through a translator. I just couldn’t get off the call. Have you ordered?”
“No, Mr. Palmer. I was waiting for you.”
“Well, wait no more. I’m famished. Are you? The banana pancakes here are just tremendous. And it’s Brett. Please call me Brett.”
The waiter brought menus, and Cindy used the time to gather her impressions of the man with thinning brown hair and blue eyes sitting across from her. He was smooth and unthreatening, but she knew he was at least a cheater, and very possibly a serial killer. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he’d introduced himself as an importer, not an FBI agent.
He signaled for the waiter, and when the waiter returned, Palmer said, “My usual, please,” while Cindy asked for scrambled eggs and toast.
Palmer smiled at her.
“I’m glad to meet you, Cindy. You’re a terrific writer. So, let me give you the story that you clearly want to write. I didn’t kill my wife. Either one of them. I loved Roxanne and I never hurt her. I never would. In fact, one time she turned over in bed and broke my nose. In her sleep. With her arm. That’s a true story. In case you’re interested in the truth. Are there any other truths I can share with you?”
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