the center of the room.
There was a closed door to his right that looked like it went to a private dining room.
The maître d’ approached.
Joe said, “I don’t have a reservation. Can you fit me in?”
“I can give you a small table in the back.”
“That’ll be fine.”
As he followed behind the maître d’, Joe looked for the man who might be Petrović, but didn’t see him. He took his seat with his back to the kitchen doors. A waiter introduced himself as Giorgio and asked Joe for his drink order. Joe went with sparkling water and accepted the menu.
It was a nice place, reminding him of the Palm in New York. The kitchen doors behind him swung open as elderly waiters in uniform came in and out with trays. Soon Giorgio returned and asked Joe if he was ready to order.
Joe asked for a New York strip steak, medium, with creamed spinach and a baked potato. When the waiter had gone, he thought about his conversation with Lindsay last night.
She’d advised him to get on the right side of this Petrović investigation. He knew he had to do it. But he didn’t yet see how to get a green light from Steinmetz.
The kitchen doors swung open again and two men came out, passing by Joe’s table.
One was of average height and build, wearing a gray suit. He had a thin mustache and gray hair. The other man was big, bulky, wearing blue serge, a white shirt, and a striped tie. Joe saw his face in profile as he said a few words to the man in gray. They were speaking Serbian.
There was no mistaking the bulky guy for anyone else.
He was Slobodan Petrović.
The man in gray was saying in Serbian basic enough for Joe to follow, “Tony, I just heard about it a minute ago. I can take care of her tonight.”
Tony. Antonije Branko was Petrović’s pseudonym. The two men were walking toward the front of the restaurant when Petrović paused midstep and pivoted back around.
Joe felt a shock to his heart.
It was clear that Petrović, too, had cop or military attentiveness. Petrović recognized him. It had just taken a moment for the cogs to engage, for him to place Joe’s face.
Petrović took a few steps back toward Joe and stood at the table, looking down at him.
He said, “Well, hello. Nice to see you here. We’ve only just opened up again as Tony’s. I’m Tony Branko,” he said, sticking out his hand.
Joe shook Petrović’s large hand, saying, “Nice place. Congratulations.”
“And you are?”
“Molinari. Joe.”
The man in blue released Joe’s hand and asked, “Where’s your girlfriend? The one who rides a bike past my house on Fell.”
Shit. Petrović had seen Anna. Did he know who she was?
The waiter came to the table with Joe’s lunch, saying, “Excuse, Mr. Branko,” and put the plates down in front of Joe. “Can I get you something else?”
Joe said, “No, thanks. I’m all set,” and the waiter disappeared.
Petrović remained at Joe’s table. He didn’t introduce the man in gray standing uncomfortably a few feet away from him. He said to Joe, “You’re a cop?”
Joe said, “Good call.”
Petrović smiled. “Now I think federal cop. Hey. Molinari. If you need a girl, I mean another one, let me know. I think we could be friends.”
And then he was gone.
Joe forced himself to eat, but he felt like an ass. He shouldn’t have stopped. He should just have kept driving. What the hell was wrong with him?
He asked for the check, paid in cash, then, throwing down his napkin, he headed to the front of the restaurant. As he passed the private room just off the entrance, Petrović/Branko stood up from a table of male diners and leaned out of the room. He called after him, “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction, Joe Molinari. Come again.”
Joe’s face burned as he left the restaurant and walked downhill to his car.
CHAPTER 35
It was Saturday morning, five days since Carly Myers, Susan Jones, and Adele Saran had gone to work at Pacific View Prep School for what may have been the last time.
The task force on this case had taken over the squad room. Besides me and Conklin, McNeil and Chi, it now included two additional career homicide inspectors, Samuels and Lemke. Also present were a dozen volunteers from Robbery and Crimes Against Persons. Even our squad assistant, Brenda Fregosi, had come in this morning to make sure we had fresh coffee and eats.
At that moment we were watching