“I hear the Alfieros over at the Harbor Fish Market are looking for someone who isn’t afraid of heavy lifting. They’re good people, as straight as they come. You do right by them, and they’ll do right by you.”
“Can I tell them you sent me?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll get my coat. Then you can go straight in.”
He disappeared through the inner door.
“Wait a minute—” said the secretary.
“You ought to quit, as well,” I said. “You stay here long enough, and you’ll end up giving evidence at a trial. You can do better.”
“Unless you’re a racist,” said Louis.
“There is that,” I said. “If you’re a racist, this is your dream job, and who are we to deprive a woman of her dream?”
Whit Vickery reappeared carrying a navy peacoat and a Tupperware containing a sandwich, an apple, and a hard-boiled egg.
“Where’s his office?” I asked.
He jerked a thumb behind him.
“Through there, first door on the right.”
“Is there another way out?”
“From the office? Only a window. Otherwise, there’s the way you came in and a fire door at the back. You’ll see it at the end of the hallway.”
The secretary moved to pick up the phone, but Angel was ahead of her and lifted it beyond reach.
“This isn’t right,” she told Vickery. “You’re not supposed to walk away at the first sign of trouble. What kind of security guard are you anyway?”
“The kind who knows when he’s beat,” said Whit. “It’s your call, honey, but if I were you, I wouldn’t be hanging around to see what happens next. If it helps, I don’t think they’re going to hurt him.”
He waited in vain for confirmation.
“Much,” he added.
“I don’t believe this,” said the secretary. She stood to grab her coat and bag. “And I am allergic to seafood, so there’s no point in my trying the fucking fish market.”
She came from behind the desk to join Vickery.
“Go for a walk,” I told her. “Think about your future. When you return, we’ll be gone.”
She found a pack of cigarettes in her bag and fumbled one into her mouth.
“I didn’t like it here anyway. He keeps patting my ass and asking me to have dinner with him.”
“Bobby does love a buffet,” I said, “but someone may have to cut off his hands to curb his other appetites. If you like, I’ll offer him your immediate notice, and he’ll pony up what you’re owed in cash so you don’t have to come back and beg. We can drop it off later.”
She lit her cigarette.
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
“Oh, we can be very convincing,” said Louis.
She regarded him for a moment before returning to her bag.