A minute later she returned and said, “I’ve got another bartender coming in at ten. You want to talk then?”
“Works for me.”
“You’re right,” she said. “John is a good guy.”
“It’s nice to be right.”
“So, messed up in what?”
“Ten o’clock,” he replied.
***
At the stroke of ten Cindi handed thebartending over to someone else and motioned to Decker to join her at the back of the bar.
“My car’s parked in back.”
“Mine’s in front.”
“I’ll drive you back here. It’s not that far.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my place.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
“Are you?” she shot back.
They climbed into a midnight black Toyota LandCruiser.
“Nice ride,” he said. “And not cheap.”
“I get good tips and good deals on cars.”
She drove them to a large brick building on the edge of downtown. As they traveled, Decker could see a number of renovation projects under way.
“Baronville making a comeback?” he asked.
“In parts,” she said cryptically.
They arrived at an undergroundparking garage and she pulled into a numbered space. They took an elevator up to the top floor. Cindi opened the door to her place and motioned Decker in.
She said, “This was an old textile mill. Renovated to luxury condos.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve been here.”
“When?”
He gave her a quick glance. “When I came to check out Bradley Costa’s apartment. He lived heretoo.”
“That’s right, he did,” she said casually.
He looked at the sleek furniture, expensive-looking rugs, and stainless steel kitchen appliances set against exposed brick walls. In a far corner was a well-appointed exercise area with dumbbells, a chin-up bar, a rack of slam and medicine balls, an elliptical, a Peloton bike, and other machines that seemed designed to strengthenas well as torture.
“No wonder you’re in such good shape,” he said.
“It doesn’t just happen,” she said. “Gotta work for it.”