Page 56
Story: Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)
He drove around the corner, reasoning that there were a dozen or more restaurants in the area and someone would have to pop into a lot of doors to locate them. That at least would give them time to eat in peace.
The walk to the restaurant took about three minutes. If anything, it seemed even hotter now than it had when they left the rental lot. The high humidity level didn’t help.
Remi wiped a sheen of perspiration from her forehead, then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, the sunlight bringing out the vibrant auburn color. “What are the chances this place is air-conditioned?”
“In this part of town? I’ll be happy with a good working ceiling fan.” But when they entered the purple, stuccoed building, the lone ceiling fan didn’t seem to move much air.
A woman greeted them as they entered. Tall, with short dark curls cropped close to her head, she picked up two menus from the counter.
As suggested, Sam asked for Melia.
“I am Melia.”
When he mentioned Kemar’s name, it brought a smile to her face.
“Kemar?” she said in the same lilting accent. “A good man to send you here. Please, come this way. Our special guests sit on the patio. Much cooler, with the breeze that comes in from the ocean.”
Melia led them through the stifling dining room to a side door, then up a creaking, narrow staircase that led to a rooftop patio overlooking the street below. As promised, a cooling breeze swept in from the south.
She set out the two menus, both on the same side of the table facing out toward the rooftops of the neighboring buildings. “Much cooler beneath the umbrella.”
“Lovely,” Remi said, taking a seat.
Sam walked over to the edge of the second-story rooftop, eyeing the cars driving below. No sign of any white SUV or any suspicious-looking pedestrians milling about. Satisfied that they hadn’t been followed, he returned to the table, grateful that they were far enough back where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone walking on the street below.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop Avery’s men from doing a door-to-door search, should they happen to notice their rental car parked around the corner. Just in case, he took out a hundred-dollar bill. “Melia. Is it possible to warn us if anyone should come in and ask if we’re here?”
She pushed his hand away. “That is far too much for such a small favor. Keep your money, and I will be glad to tell you should anyone come looking. Now, what is it you’d like to eat?”
Sam picked up the menu. “What do you recommend?”
Melia smiled. “On the menu or off? You tell me what it is you like and I will see it done.”
Exactly th
e sort of restaurant they preferred. In short order, they were dining on jerk chicken—smooth, moist, and served with a fiery Scotch bonnet pepper marinade.
Melia returned before they finished, her dark brows etched with worry. “You said to warn you should someone come asking?”
“Yes,” Sam said, his gaze moving to the doorway. “What happened?”
“It is as you said. A white man walked in, asking if we have seen a man who would be with a beautiful woman with red hair.” She smiled apologetically. “We told them no. You can see for yourself.” She motioned for Sam to approach the balustrade, pointing down to the street. “There on the corner?”
Sam looked out, saw a short, broad-shouldered man, his back to them, talking on a cell phone. Unlike everyone else in the vicinity, who seemed to be wearing shorts or khakis and short-sleeved shirts, this person wore dark slacks and a leather coat. Jak. The same thing he’d been wearing when he robbed Pickering’s bookstore. A second man stepped out of a restaurant across the street, looked around, then made eye contact with Jak.
Sam stepped back out of view. “Any chance you have another way out of here?”
“The fire escape,” she said, pointing to the opposite side of the roof. “A ladder leading down into the alley.”
“Works for me,” Sam said. “Remi?”
“I’m in.”
He left several hundred dollars on the table, and Melia started to protest.
“Worth every penny,” Sam said. “Trust me.”
He walked toward the ladder, Remi right behind him. The alley looked clear. Even better, there were two large dumpsters, one on either side of the ladder, and he climbed over the edge, then waited for Remi. Once she was safely on the ladder, they started down. “Sorry about lunch,” he said as they descended.
The walk to the restaurant took about three minutes. If anything, it seemed even hotter now than it had when they left the rental lot. The high humidity level didn’t help.
Remi wiped a sheen of perspiration from her forehead, then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, the sunlight bringing out the vibrant auburn color. “What are the chances this place is air-conditioned?”
“In this part of town? I’ll be happy with a good working ceiling fan.” But when they entered the purple, stuccoed building, the lone ceiling fan didn’t seem to move much air.
A woman greeted them as they entered. Tall, with short dark curls cropped close to her head, she picked up two menus from the counter.
As suggested, Sam asked for Melia.
“I am Melia.”
When he mentioned Kemar’s name, it brought a smile to her face.
“Kemar?” she said in the same lilting accent. “A good man to send you here. Please, come this way. Our special guests sit on the patio. Much cooler, with the breeze that comes in from the ocean.”
Melia led them through the stifling dining room to a side door, then up a creaking, narrow staircase that led to a rooftop patio overlooking the street below. As promised, a cooling breeze swept in from the south.
She set out the two menus, both on the same side of the table facing out toward the rooftops of the neighboring buildings. “Much cooler beneath the umbrella.”
“Lovely,” Remi said, taking a seat.
Sam walked over to the edge of the second-story rooftop, eyeing the cars driving below. No sign of any white SUV or any suspicious-looking pedestrians milling about. Satisfied that they hadn’t been followed, he returned to the table, grateful that they were far enough back where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone walking on the street below.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop Avery’s men from doing a door-to-door search, should they happen to notice their rental car parked around the corner. Just in case, he took out a hundred-dollar bill. “Melia. Is it possible to warn us if anyone should come in and ask if we’re here?”
She pushed his hand away. “That is far too much for such a small favor. Keep your money, and I will be glad to tell you should anyone come looking. Now, what is it you’d like to eat?”
Sam picked up the menu. “What do you recommend?”
Melia smiled. “On the menu or off? You tell me what it is you like and I will see it done.”
Exactly th
e sort of restaurant they preferred. In short order, they were dining on jerk chicken—smooth, moist, and served with a fiery Scotch bonnet pepper marinade.
Melia returned before they finished, her dark brows etched with worry. “You said to warn you should someone come asking?”
“Yes,” Sam said, his gaze moving to the doorway. “What happened?”
“It is as you said. A white man walked in, asking if we have seen a man who would be with a beautiful woman with red hair.” She smiled apologetically. “We told them no. You can see for yourself.” She motioned for Sam to approach the balustrade, pointing down to the street. “There on the corner?”
Sam looked out, saw a short, broad-shouldered man, his back to them, talking on a cell phone. Unlike everyone else in the vicinity, who seemed to be wearing shorts or khakis and short-sleeved shirts, this person wore dark slacks and a leather coat. Jak. The same thing he’d been wearing when he robbed Pickering’s bookstore. A second man stepped out of a restaurant across the street, looked around, then made eye contact with Jak.
Sam stepped back out of view. “Any chance you have another way out of here?”
“The fire escape,” she said, pointing to the opposite side of the roof. “A ladder leading down into the alley.”
“Works for me,” Sam said. “Remi?”
“I’m in.”
He left several hundred dollars on the table, and Melia started to protest.
“Worth every penny,” Sam said. “Trust me.”
He walked toward the ladder, Remi right behind him. The alley looked clear. Even better, there were two large dumpsters, one on either side of the ladder, and he climbed over the edge, then waited for Remi. Once she was safely on the ladder, they started down. “Sorry about lunch,” he said as they descended.
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