“Fine. I’ll let Big Bob know and he can pass it along Friday night.” He wrote Hoffman with a question mark on a note pad on his desk. Under that he wrote, Call Big Bob.
I could have given him my cell phone number, but only a few people knew it and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t think the information was so important it couldn’t wait until Friday night. I hoped Hoffman wasn’t dead. Then I really would be paranoid.
I stood and extended my hand. “I appreciate your time and your help. If you get up my way, we’ll grab Big Bob and I’ll treat for dinner.”
He shook my hand and replied, “It’s a date.”
I retrieved the Pathfinder and headed for the Residence Inn on Kingston Pike. I wanted to do some more poking around and I had a few ideas. I felt like a barnyard rooster scratching and pecking, scratching and pecking, hoping to turn up something worth finding. By the time I got inside my penthouse suite, it was 5:05. I quickly changed into my running gear and headed back to campus. Ten minutes later I was doing laps on Tom Black track. Running helps me think and thinking helps me forget that running is really work. An hour later I was back in my suite with a beer, a box of white cheddar Cheez-Its and my laptop, checking out the stock market. It had been a very flat day on the Street.
I called Sandy and talked to her machine. “Staying over,” I said. “Probably back tomorrow night. Want to get laid?” My rule was to leave as few words as possible on any machine. I also left my telephone and room number. Then I made one more phone call and headed to the shower.
The Regas is one of Knoxville’s oldest and best-known restaurants. I valet parked the Pathfinder and double-checked my attire in the entrance hall mirror. Black turtleneck, gray herringbone sport coat with a touch of beige, and tan slacks accessorized by a black belt, black socks, and black shoes. I was trying to be modest but I liked what I saw. Private investigators, after all, do need confidence.
There was a half-hour wait for dinner. I put my name in for two and went to the bar. I ordered a Rolling Rock and had no sooner taken that first cold delicious swallow than I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and was almost nose-to-nose with a very pretty, blond haired, blue-eyed face.
“Hi,” I said. “First round is on you. What will you have?”
“Rolling Rock looks good,” Emily replied.
Emily was gorgeous in a black leather jacket, white turtleneck, tight jeans, and high heels. If I had been a wolf I would have howled. Instead I smiled and took another swallow of Rolling Rock. We finished our first round exchanging small talk and as promised Emily bought the first round. She had just paid for the drinks when my name was called for dinner.
“You hungry?” I asked. “Dinner is on me.”
“Sure,” she smiled.
I left the bartender a five and we followed our waiter to our table. We took our time accessing the menu. Finally, Emily looked up. “Too many choices,” she said. “What are you having?”
“Salmon.”
“Sounds good to me.”
When the waiter returned, I ordered two salmon entrees and two small Caesar salads. I looked at Emily as I ordered the salads and a slight nod of her head told me I had made the right choice.
We engaged in more small talk. I mostly listened as Emily told me her life story. Occasionally I asked a question to keep her going. I wanted her talking freely. We ordered another round of drinks. The Caesars came and went. Delicious. The salmon arrived.
“How long have you been with Tom Slack?”
“Eight years,” Emily answered. “I was attending UT and getting bored. I answered an ad in the paper for a part-time file clerk-typist. I worked about twenty hours a week and continued school. Mr. Slack liked my work and kept offering me more hours. The more hours I worked, the fewer classes I took. After two years I was working full-time and going to night school. I finally graduated two years ago with a degree in business. My official title now is office manager. I run the office, do payroll, manage the secretaries and sometimes play receptionist.”
“Which I am glad you were doing today,” I smiled.
“Me, too,” Emily smiled back. “The salmon is delicious.”
“Indeed it is. Do you remember Ed Sanders?”
“Ed? Sure. Nice guy, but he drank too much. It was a real shock when he was killed. Mr. Slack was very upset.”
“Was Sanders married?”
“Divorced, I think. I saw his wife at the funeral so I know he was married, but I believe I heard they were divorced.”
“Any children?”
“One at least. Ed had a son he was very proud of. The kid was a real jock for Knox Central, football and basketball. Ed talked about him all the time. If he had other children, he never mentioned them. Why all the interest?”
Something tugged at my memory as I tried to make a connection but then it was gone. “A case Ed investigated is tied to a case I am working now,” I answered. “It’s probably nothing. I’m just tracking down leads. Do you know the wife’s name or where she lives?”
Emily arched an eyebrow and gave me a wicked smile. “I get it. I’m being pumped for information. A little beer, a good meal, and the lady will tell you anything, right?”
I was beginning to like this woman.
I laughed. “You did give me your phone number.”
“Touché,” Emily said. “And I’m glad you called. Call me at the office tomorrow and I’ll pull Ed’s personnel file and see if I can help.”
“Deal. How about dessert or coffee?”
Outside in the cool autumn evening I turned to Emily and asked, “Did you valet park your car?”
She smiled and said, “I took a taxi.”
I gave my parking receipt to the valet and within minutes I was downtown on Cumberland Avenue and out Kingston Pike obediently following the directions Emily had given me. Eventually I took a right into an elaborate condo complex.
“Building G, to the left past the tennis courts,” Emily instructed. “There,” she pointed. “Any place in front of that building.”
I parked. I got out and went around the back of the Pathfinder to open the passenger side door, but Emily was already out and searching for her keys.
“One flight up,” she said as she led the way.
We stopped in front of 2G as Emily unlocked two locks and opened the door. I stood in the threshold.
“Coming in?” she asked with an inviting smile.
“Better not this time.”
“Guess I’ll have to settle for a good-night kiss,” she said as she slid against me.
It was more of a statement of fact than a question and we were kissing before I knew what happened. It was not that unpleasant. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her hips pressing against mine. Her mouth was relaxed and inviting. I let go of her reluctantly.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s OK.”
“Sure,” she smiled.
“Good-night,” I said.
I left as casually as I could, thinking that I probably should have stayed and wondering why I didn’t. I hadn’t slept with anyone but Sandy Smith in more than a year. Sandy and I have an unspoken understanding to be mutually exclusive. Since it remains unspoken, I’m not quite sure, but that’s the way I was playing it. One woman at a time is enough. Why make life more complicated than it already is?