Black River

THIRTY-FIVE

O’Brien parked in the shade across the street from the restaurant in downtown DeLand, twenty minutes before Laura was scheduled to be there. He wanted to arrive early to watch for her — but more importantly, he wanted to watch for signs that she might be followed.

Through his sunglasses, he looked at Max in the seat beside him, her long dachshund ears now lifting slightly, following the traffic noises, her black button nostrils testing the cross-breeze that drifted through the Jeep’s open windows. There was the scent of orange blossoms mixed with the smell of meat grilling. O’Brien scratched her neck. “Max, I need you to sit tight for a little while. They don’t allow dogs inside the restaurant. And since you’re a wiener dog…that might be a good thing. But I’ll bring you a doggie bag. Let’s just sit here and see if anyone is following Laura and her little girl.”

O’Brien glanced out his side and rearview mirrors. He watched business professionals emerging from office buildings, blending in with college students and tourists crossing New York Street with its eclectic mixture of antique shops, coffee houses, restaurants and bars.

At five minutes before noon, a white Honda Accord came slowly up New York Street, Laura at the wheel. She pulled in to the Mainstreet Grill parking lot and found a space between the dozens of cars, the sun winking off chrome and glass. As Laura and Paula got out of the car and started for the entrance to the restaurant, O’Brien heard the droning sound of something above the city. He cut his eyes up to the hard blue sky over DeLand. A vintage bi-plane flew low, its engine strained, pulling a banner sign that read: SHORTY’S — DAYTONA BEACH — HAPPY HOUR 4–7 PM

O’Brien waited five more minutes. He lowered the window a few inches on Max’s side of the Jeep. “Looks like all is clear. Just a mom and her little girl going to lunch. All right, you earn your keep and be a watchdog for me. We’re parked in the shade. Stay cool. If anyone approaches the Jeep, you show some teeth.”

Max cocked her head and made a slight snorting sound, as if she sneezed. O’Brien smiled, locked the Jeep, and walked across the parking lot to the restaurant. He looked over his shoulder once as he paused at the front door. A black Ford Excursion turned into the lot, its windows tinted dark. He ducked into the restaurant and found Laura and Paula sitting next to each other at a booth, a file folder in front of Laura.

O’Brien slid across the booth seat opposite Laura and Paula. He said, “Well, hello ladies. I’m so glad you could join me for lunch.”

“Me too,” Paula said, grinning.

Laura attempted a smile; her fearful thoughts swirling behind guarded blue eyes. “It’s good to see you, Sean.” She lifted the file folder, handed it to her daughter and said, “Paula has a gift for you.”

Paula smiled and opened the folder. She carefully lifted a page from her coloring book. “Mommy cut this out. It’s the butterfly I colored. I wanted to give it to you. I signed it. My letters aren’t very good.” She handed the page to O’Brien.

He said, “Your letters are fine. I can read it perfectly. You did a great job with the butterfly. I will proudly hang this work of art in my house, maybe on my refrigerator.”

Paula grinned, a top front tooth missing. “Art’s my favorite subject in class.”

O’Brien smiled. “I can see why, you’re good.”

Laura said, “And she’ll have some time to practice here at the table. The waitress brought some coloring sheets with the menus. Here, Paula, start on one. We’ll order your mac and cheese in a sec. I need to show Sean something by the entrance.”

“What?”

“An antique that I like. I’ll be able to see you from right over there.”

Paula smiled, lifting up a green crayon. O’Brien followed Laura about twenty feet toward the door. She stopped to point out an antique butter churn on display in the corner. She lowered her voice. “I was threatened.”

O’Brien, glanced back at Paula for a second. “Who threatened you?”

“I don’t know. It was right after I got off my phone with you. A man called. He spoke in a whisper. His voice was icy…cold. Almost inhuman. He warned me to be careful of what I said to the reporters. He said it might come back to haunt me and my daughter.” Laura looked toward Paula, and then cut her eyes up to O’Brien. “He said some things are better left buried in the past, and its best to let a sleeping junkyard dog lie. Otherwise there could be consequences.”

“Was he referring to the diamond or the Civil War contract, or maybe both?”

“I don’t know.”

O’Brien scanned the restaurant, diners busy in conversation, the scent of roast beef and marinara sauce coming from one table. He said, “You need to let the detectives know.”

Laura nodded. “I’ll call them right after we’re done.”

O’Brien looked over Laura’s shoulder, out the front door window just as a satellite news truck rolled into the parking lot.