Page 123 of Bonded in Death

“These are the police. They have questions.”

Wide brown eyes showed alarm. “Oh!”

“For you, not about you,” Eve qualified. “You handled that booth yesterday?”

She glanced back. “Yes, that’s my table.”

“Can you describe your two-thirty?”

“Oh, sure. Um, two men, one woman. Brothers. They took Mom out for lunch. They were both really sweet to her, and the older one—”

“How old?”

“About… maybe forty? He paid, and he tipped well.”

Eve glanced back at the manager. “Who handled the dinner service?”

“Oh, I did,” Melinda said. “I worked a double. There’s a stomach virus going around.”

“We’re short-staffed,” Mr. Fussy said, mouth pursed. “So if that’s all.”

“It’s not. Tell me about that table, dinner service.”

“Sure. I had a seven-thirty. It was supposed to be a party of six.”

“Supposed to be?”

“That’s right. With a seven-thirty booking, party of six, we wouldn’t do a turnover. The single arrived right at seven thirty, and said his family would be coming along. Joked how they were always a bit late. He ordered a bottle of Charman’s sparkling water and a gin fizz.”

“Describe him.”

“Well, older, you know, grandfather-type old. Very distinguished, I guess. Beautiful suit. Dark hair, with the temple gray. Distinguished.”

“Was he carrying anything?”

“Oh right, yeah. A really mag leather man bag.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, he took his time with the cocktail. I saw him checking his watch a couple times. I refilled his water glass. I guess it was about seven-forty-five or so when I started over to ask if he wanted another cocktail, but noticed he was on his ’link.”

“The rest of his party never arrived.”

“No. He got up really quickly, put some cash on the table to cover the drinks, and a nice tip, too. He said there’d been a family emergency and he rushed out.”

“What name did he use to book?”

Scowling now, the manager checked. “C. S. Urban.”

“He just can’t resist,” Eve murmured. “Melinda, if I could have your full name, your contact information, I’m going to send a police artist to work with you.”

“Really? Did he do something? He was so nice.”

“He’s not, and if you see him again, keep your distance. Contact me.” Eve dug out a card.

“I insist you allow us to get back to our work.”

Eve spared him one long, cool look, and had the satisfaction of watching his bristle turn to a wither.

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