say, I’ve done my part, clueless human. Now go prove why you’re supposedly the dominant species. Which wasn’t much help at all.
Once Darla had rung up her customer and James had returned from his break—minus any additional literary insights, as he made sure to inform her—they agreed he could finish out the shift alone. Darla headed back upstairs to her apartment to shower and rest before her date with Barry later that night.
What she didn’t tell James was that her plans for the evening also included keeping an eye on the store’s security cameras throughout the night. For it had occurred to her that afternoon that maybe she’d given over the henhouse to the fox by leaving Robert in charge of reviewing the previous night’s videos. Much as she hated to suspect the teen of anything, she couldn’t dismiss the unsettled feeling she had that something was going on with Robert. She needed to reassure herself that he wasn’t wandering around her place or the Plinskis’ building in the dark of night looking for scrap metal to steal.
And part of that reassurance meant that before she called it a day at the store, she was going to reset the two exterior cameras.
FIFTEEN
IT WAS QUARTER TO EIGHT WHEN, AFTER SWITCHING ON THE television to the pet channel, she left behind a decidedly peeved Hamlet and started in the direction of the Greek restaurant, the modestly named Greek Restaurant. Though darkness had long since fallen, the streetlights and passing traffic served to illuminate her way. That, and plenty of early evening foot traffic—it was Friday night, after all—made the walk one she normally would not have hesitated over. But the fact that an as-yet unsolved murder had occurred only two blocks away kept her looking over her shoulder more than usual during the short walk.
And she was not the only one, she noticed. Word of the murder had traveled quickly around the neighborhood, and she noticed her fellow passersby scuttling along at a faster pace than she was used to seeing. Greek Restaurant, like similar establishments she’d seen in the city, resembled an authentic taverna with a whitewashed exterior and rough wooden benches set beneath window boxes filled with flowers—obviously artificial, given the time of year, Darla thought with a smile.
Barry stood at the head of a small line that had formed outside the wooden doors as the would-be diners waited to get in. Instead of his usual plaster-streaked jeans, tonight he wore brown dress slacks, and his gray hooded sweatshirt had been replaced by a blue and brown tweed sport coat over a beige shirt. At the sight of him, she was glad that under her own lightweight black wool coat she’d opted for a soft, calf-length knit dress in forest green topped by a fringed Spanish shawl in jewel tones, rather than her go-to fall work uniform of slacks and bulky sweater.
“Perfect timing,” he greeted her, his gaze appreciative. “And I really like your hair all pinned up and poufy like that.” Then, with a gesture at the door, he added, “Let’s hope the food is as good as it smells from out here.”
It was. Half an hour later, Darla was blissfully making her way through a salad of red onions, black olives, tomatoes, and cucumbers topped by an herb-encrusted slab of feta. When Barry playfully made as if to steal one of her stuffed grape leaves, she wielded her fork like a tined sword and warned him, “Don’t even think about it.”
The entrée was even better. After some debate, they had decided to share a platter of dolma, spanakopita, souvlaki, broiled scampi, and mousaka. Darla considered saving a shrimp to bring home to Hamlet as a peace offering for leaving him on his own. After a second glass of a soft red wine, however, she decided the heck with it and finished the final piece herself.
Their dinner conversation was deliberately light, with both of them avoiding the subject of Curt and Tera. Darla regaled Barry with the seamy underside of selling books, while he obliged with bloodless horror stories about his previous career in banking. And again, Darla found herself thinking that Barry was what they called “a nice guy,” and that nice was a pleasant change from what she had lived with in the past. It wasn’t until they were walking back toward Darla’s place a couple of hours later that talk turned to the subject of that afternoon’s find.
“So, have you heard anything back from that detective