“Well, you call me if you need help. You be sure and give him my number, doll. You pass out or something in the restaurant, I don’t want to see it in the papers first.”
I gave him my solemn word that he would have the honor of providing me smelling salts if needed. He scowled at us but went on inside with Peppy.
“Who is he?” Robin demanded when we were out of earshot. “Your grandfather?”
“He’s just my downstairs neighbor. He’s retired and I’m his hobby.”
“Why’s he so rattled about you going out to eat?”
“It’s not breakfast—it’s breakfast with you. If he was twenty years younger, he’d be beating up any guy who came visiting me. It’s tiresome, but he’s essentially so good-hearted I can’t bring myself to punch him down.”
The four blocks to the Belmont Diner wore me out. I’ve been through convalescence before. I know the early part is slow and then your strength comes back pretty fast, but it still was frustrating. I had to work to get the tension in my stomach to subside.
Most of the waitresses at the diner know me—I probably catch at least one meal a week there and sometimes more. They’d all read about my misadventures and crowded around the table to find out how I was doing and who the talent I’d come in with was. Barbara, whose section I was in, shooed the others away when they started offering juice and rolls. When I ordered a cheese omelet, potatoes, bacon, toast, and a side of fruit with yogurt, she shook her head.
“You’re not going to eat all that, Vic—it’s twice what you get when you’ve just run five miles.”
I insisted, but she was right. I got through half the omelet and the potatoes but couldn’t even make a pro forma effort with the fruit. My stomach strained uncomfortably; all I felt up to was napping, but I forced myself to talk a little shop with Robin.
“You know anything about the fire at the Prairie Shores? What kind of accelerant they used, whether things looked the same as at the Indiana Arms?”
He shook his head. “The Indiana Arms job was more sophisticated because there were people on the premises. It looks as though they put a fuse in the wires in the night man’s quarters when they’d gotten him off to the track. They had a trailer going down to a stock of paraffin in the basement and a timer so they didn’t have to be anywhere near the place. The fire you were in they didn’t have to be that careful—they just dumped gasoline in the kitchen and at the doors to the basement, set the thing off, and took off.” He looked at me soberly. “You were lucky, V.I. Damned lucky.”
“That’s what gets the job done. Napoleon wanted lucky generals, not theoretical whizzes.” It gets me edgy when people lecture me on a narrow escape. I had been lucky, but all the luck in the world wouldn’t have helped if I didn’t also keep myself in top physical and mental shape. Why didn’t my skill count for anything?
“Yeah, but he was beaten in a big way in the end…. Do you have any idea who did this to you? My management is concerned that it came out of your investigation into the Indiana Arms—that you’re sitting on information you haven’t shared with us.”
I tried to keep my temper even. “I don’t know who did it. It’s possible it’s connected to your claim, but the only person who can tell me is lying doggo. If I had that kind of information, I wouldn’t be so unprofessional as to keep it to myself.”
He hesitated, toying with the salt shaker. “I’m just wondering—my boss and I were talking yesterday—we work with a lot of investigators. Maybe we should bring someone else in on the Seligman case.”
I sat stiffly in my booth. “I realize I don’t have the results you want, but I’ve done the financial checks and a pretty good rundown on the organization. If you want someone else to talk to the night watchman or explore what Seligman’s children may have been doing, that’s your call, of course.”
“It’s not your competence, Vic, but—well, this assault on you just has people questioning your judgment.”
I tried to relax. “I went down there because I got an SOS from my aunt. Since she has a strong proclivity for alcoholic histrionics I wanted to see her myself first rather than share that part of my family life with outsiders. If I’d had any serious inkling of danger, I would have handled things differently. But I am really, really fed up with being chewed out by everyone from doctors to the police to you for saving her and escaping from danger with my own life intact.”
By the time I finished I was panting. I leaned back in my chair with my eyes shut, trying to head off the incipient pain in my head.
“Vic, I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re alive. You’ve been doing a marvelous job. But we wonder whether someone else could bring a different perspective. Just the fact that your aunt is involved may be affecting your detachment.”