Blue Suzuki
Wellington Leg: From the case files of Arthur Murray, Private Investigator: Rudolfo made bail so we celebrated with a night on the town; okay, it late afternoon on the town so we could capture the senior discount at the local clam house. For a man who’d been struck by a Cuisinart he had a good appetite. Trudy embarrassed him by demanding a bucket of ice for her bum elbow. The waiter said his name was Chip and that he used to be a senior commander in the strategic rocket forces. He brought the ice bucket but forgot the ice. Trudy threw a dinner roll out of a cut fastball grip. We had to place our order before 4:45 or we’d lose the discount.
To humor them I wore an ear piece and adopted the air of a bodyguard when dealing with Chip. With thirty seconds on the clock Trudy ordered a Crab Louis; Rudolfo went retro with a Ling Cod Burger in a ketchup and mustard reduction. I ordered bangers and mash and warned Chip not to shout in Trudy’s ear. Makes her crazy.
Got them home at six. We were followed down Fourth Avenue by a guy on a Blue Suzuki. Once they settled in the apartment I ducked downstairs for a look. There he was in the alley, the bike puffing little two stroke bursts into the breeze.
“You Arthur Murray?” the guy asked.
Now what. “Who’s asking?”
The guy reached into his jacket. “It’s okay,” he said seeing my expression. “It’s a message from Babs.”
A formal invitation. Black tie. Tonight.
“You gonna RSVP?” the guy asked.
“I already ate,” I said.
“Suit yourself. She’ll be at the Five Seasons at Ten.”
“You mean the four seasons.”
“Yeah, at eight.”
“Tell her I’ll be there. Both times.”