Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,42

you know who would want to hurt him?”

A tear welled in her eye. “My dear, I don’t know what to think. I just want to know what happened to him. I want whoever killed Bradley and Michelle brought to justice.”

“Can you tell me anything about El Paraiso?” I asked.

Mrs. Avery’s eyes narrowed. “I told my son not to get involved. Imagine opening up a restaurant in one of the most competitive cities in the nation. Do you know the failure rate of restaurants here in San Francisco?”

I shook my head but Mrs. Avery proceeded with her rant, ignoring me entirely. “He always gave in too easily to Rich. He was Bradley’s best friend. Have you spoken with him yet? El Paraiso was his dream, you know, but Rich never had two pennies to rub together. So Bradley, with my help, of course, funded the restaurant and we made Rich the assistant manager.”

Laurie began to squirm in Mrs. Avery’s arms.

“Well, dear, why don’t we get the paperwork out?” Mrs. Avery said.

“Paperwork?”

“I assume you have a contract for me to sign.”

I hated appearing unprepared, but I shook my head as the words “I’ll prepare one for you” tumbled out of my mouth.

Mrs. Avery raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Leave me your card.”

Oh God! I was going to lose my first client before I even landed her.

“My card. Yes . . . uh . . . I came straight from the hospital . . .”

Mrs. Avery stood and handed Laurie to me. “I understand. Marta will provide you with my card. In the meantime, I’ll presume the same terms as with Galigani.”

I headed home for lunch, my head spinning. Mrs. Avery wanted to hire me. I’d done it. My first client. Now I had to zip home, draw up a contract, feed and change Laurie, and make dinner.

When would I sleep?

I had been hoping for a nap with Laurie this afternoon, but now, on the verge of my new career, that seemed indulgent, if not impossible.

I glanced at my to-do list. “Find George” stood out like a beacon. Galigani had found him. Why couldn’t I?

Pier 23, where his bags had been found, was not exactly on my way home, but one glance in the rearview mirror told me Laurie was sacked out. I’d drive by the pier and take a peek. The rest of the to-do list could wait until tomorrow.

I stopped at a red light in front of the pier. The water that had been so blue outside Mrs. Avery’s doorstep now appeared gray. Of course, Mrs. Avery had a clear view of the ocean; this water was in the bay. The bay always looked gray to me.

The pier seemed quiet. A few barrels against a restaurant wall and a homeless woman camped out with a blanket. Two joggers ran by. Then a hooded figure carrying a black bag made his way up the hill. I watched as he walked toward the pier. Something about his gait was familiar.

The car behind me blasted its horn. The light had changed.

I pulled my car forward, trying to keep one eye on the road and the other on the man, who’d stopped in front of a lamppost. His back was to me.

Could it be George?

I strained to see him, but was forced to pick up speed through the intersection.

Damn.

Probably nothing, but I wanted to make a U-turn and get a closer look. I changed lanes. A huge NO U-TURN sign stared down at me.

I’d need to change lanes again and go around the block. It took me nearly ten minutes in traffic to do that. I thought for sure by the time I circled around, the man would be gone.

I was finally in the right lane and able to drive directly past the lamppost. The man was still there. He had pulled off his hood and was straightening his hair.

Hair that looked distinctly familiar.

Hair that was just like Laurie’s.

A heavy pit formed in my stomach. I watched as he fumbled inside the bag for a cigarette. He lit it, then looked around impatiently while tapping his foot against the lamppost.

I slowed, rolled down my window, and called to him. “George!”

At the same time, a gold hard-top Mercedes cut into my lane, maneuvering around my car. The driver, a whirl of red hair, shouted something.

I guess I was going too slow for some city people.

George never even looked in my direction. He dropped the black bag and took off running. Why was he running from me?

I