Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [93]
Shada typed a short reply—Let’s meet!—and hit SEND. The message was on its way.
And kitty8 was in the bag.
Chapter Forty-six
The lunch crowd was thinning as Jack settled into a booth at Grunberg’s Deli in downtown Miami.
“I’ll have the Reuben,” Jack told the waitress.
“Same,” said Vince.
Vince had called that morning to suggest they talk. Jack hadn’t visited Grunberg’s in years, but it had been one of Neil’s favorites, which made it the first place to come to mind when Vince had asked, “Where do you want to eat?” Real Jewish delis were becoming somewhat of a dinosaur in Miami. Jack could remember bygone places like Wolfie’s, Pumpernik’s, and Rascal House—sticky and shopworn institutions that were last refurbished when The Honeymooners was live on television, where the food was plentiful but never really outstanding. The experience was the draw. As Neil used to say, the hamantaschen were passable and the macaroons were okay, but there was strange comfort in knowing that perhaps it was a long-dead relative who’d left that stuffed cabbage leaf wedged beneath your booth.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” said Alicia.
Jack hadn’t expected Vince to bring his wife to their meeting, but it made sense. Jack had the advantage of being able to read Vince’s expressions. Alicia leveled the nonverbal playing field.
“Eat something,” said the waitress. “You’re too thin.”
It was standard banter between strangers in a deli like Grunberg’s, but Alicia didn’t quite know how to respond.
Vince said, “You do seem to have lost a couple pounds, honey.”
“I’m the same weight I’ve always been.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Vince.
It occurred to Jack that the only way for Vince to have gained that impression was through the sense of touch. There was something to envy in a married man who knew his wife’s body so thoroughly. Jack wondered if he could have done the same with Andie.
Alicia caved and ordered a bowl of matzoh ball soup, barely enough to make the waitress tuck the lunch ticket into her apron and leave them alone.
“Again, I wanted to say I’m very sorry about Neil Goderich,” said Vince. “This is not an official police visit, but I did want to give you my thoughts on the man who killed your friend.”
Jack helped himself to a pickle from the platter on their table. “I’m all ears.”
“First, from what I’ve learned, it seems obvious that the killer was not blind.”
Jack did a double take, then glanced at Alicia. She leaner closer to Vince and took her husband’s hand.
“I didn’t know anyone had suggested the killer was blind,” said Jack.
Vince laced his fingers with his wife’s. “The same goes for the man who killed Jamal Wakefield. Definitely not the work of a man without sight.”
Again Jack glanced at Alicia, but she cast her eyes downward as she gently stroked the back of her husband’s hand.
“No one would dispute that,” said Jack.
“Which is what makes the case of Ethan Chang so interesting,” said Vince. “The medical examiner won’t say what killed him, but it was a toxin that entered his body through the top of his foot. The mall security tape captures a highly suspicious moment of contact.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“Then you know,” said Vince. “Someone pretending to be blind jabbed Ethan Chang with his walking stick.”
“How do you know he was posing, as opposed to really blind?”
“Generally speaking, blind guys don’t have that good of an aim.”
Brilliant question, Swyteck. “I guess you got me there,” said Jack.
“It’s not just that,” said Alicia. “Tell him.”
Vince drew a breath, then let it out. “If you think about it, someone went to a lot of trouble to orchestrate the death of Ethan Chang. If Chang had information about a secret detention site that someone would kill to keep secret, the easiest thing would have been to put a bullet in the back of his head. Instead, the killer pretended to be blind and jabbed him with his stick. You have to ask yourself: Why?”
Jack