Page 53 of 25 Alive

I just need some background,she wrote.I’ll tell you when we get together tomorrow.

He’d written,Sure,then,Breakfast at 8 a.m. at Ritz-Carlton’s restaurant. Does that work for you?

Cindy arrived at the hotel’s restaurant a little early and found the maître d’ podium unmanned. She scanned the dining room and saw a man in a business suit at a table by the windows overlooking the city skyline.

She started across the room but didn’t get far before she heard a voice behind her calling, “Miss? Excuse me, miss?”

Cindy turned to see the maître d’ attempting to get her attention.

“Oh, hi. I’m meeting Mr. Palmer here. He’s sitting over there.”

“Sorry, miss. That’s not Mr. Palmer. He just called and said he was running a little late. Would you like to be seated at a table? Or would you be more comfortable in the waiting area?”

“A table will be fine,” Cindy said.

“Very good.”

The maître d’ walked ahead of Cindy as they crossed the sand-colored carpeting to an empty table, where he pulled out a chair for her and asked her if she would like coffee or tea.

“Coffee, thank you.”

Cindy took her phone from her bag and started checking her messages as a waiter arrived with coffee and cream.

For the next fifteen minutes Cindy downed her coffee and answered messages on her phone. She sent an email to Richie. She also read the front page of theExaminerand then answered more emails before checking the time.

The waiter stopped by to refill her coffee, then asked, “Would you like to order now?”

Cindy looked up from her phone and said, “Could you ask the maître d’ …”

“Ma’am?”

“Would you ask him if he has received another message for me from Mr. Palmer?”

The waiter slipped his order pad into his jacket pocket and, after speaking to the maître d’, returned to Cindy’s table.

“No, ma’am. There is no further word from Mr. Palmer.”

Cindy looked around the room and saw that it was filling up.

“I’m going to wait a little longer. Thank you.”

She started to text Palmer but stopped without sending. Had Palmer decided to make her wait until she got the none-too-subtle message that he’d stood her up?

Well,Cindy thought,I’ll be returning the message. I won’t be leaving. At least not yet.

CHAPTER80

CINDY TAPPED AN icon on her phone and opened the notes she’d made about FBI agent Brett Palmer. The maître d’, whose name was Maurice, and whom she’d pretended not to recognize, was her source. Maurice was a fan of her column in theChronicleand had confided to her that Brett Palmer came to San Francisco about once a month and stayed at the Ritz.

According to Maurice, Palmer frequented the lounge here and was known to pick up women who were also staying in the hotel. This had been going on, Maurice guessed, for about three years, which meant that Palmer already had a habit of picking up women while he was still married to Angela Kinney Palmer, wife number two.

A shadow fell across the table and Cindy looked up at a fortyish man dressed in a snappy suit. “Cindy?” he asked, smiling nicely. “I’m Brett. I’m sorry I’m late.”

As he took the chair facing hers, he said, “I’m in the import business. I had to take a call from my client in Singapore, andhe was speaking through a translator. I just couldn’t get off the call. Have you ordered?”

“No, Mr. Palmer. I was waiting for you.”

“Well, wait no more. I’m famished. Are you? The banana pancakes here are just tremendous. And it’s Brett. Please call me Brett.”

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