* * * *
Having completed the purchase and the priority shipping and insurance information for the ring, Julián and Chris left Clay Cook Jewelers and climbed into Julián’s pickup.
Chris buckled up and said, “Close to supper. Want to go get a steak?”
“Sure.”
Julián picked his phone up from the truck console where it’d been charging to check for messages or voice mail as he started the truck. Worry knotted in his chest when he saw the status update from Gwen. He checked his watch.
“Something wrong?”
Julián turned the phone so Chris could see, curious what he’d make of Gwen’s latest posting. “She wrote that at noon.”
“Kinda cryptic. I thought she just got home…like home for good. That don’t sound right to me.”
Julián found her number and put through a call. All he got was voice mail with her standard greeting. He left a message for her to call him anytime night or day.
“You okay?” Chris asked.
“I’m worried about her. I looked at the responses to that post. There must be twenty comments asking if she’s okay and she’s not replied to any of them. She always responds to her friends. She didn’t reply to my comment from earlier in the day either.”
“Can you call her dad?”
“I don’t have his number. Teresa may know it.”
“Give her some time to get back in touch with you. Maybe her Internet is out.”
“Could be, I guess.” But worry continued to grow in his heart.
They enjoyed a quiet steak dinner at O’Reilley’s, each lost in his own thoughts. The waitress had just brought the check to the table, leaving it in Chris’s easy reach so that he grabbed it before Julián could.
“You get the next one,” Chris said as he chuckled and reached for his back pocket.
“Can you reach it, Guido?”
Chris gave him a subtle middle-finger salute. “I can reach my back pocket just fine, Julió.”
“Okay, good, because I’m not putting my hand in your pocket just because you’re all muscle-bound and shit.”
Julián pulled out his wallet to leave a tip as the man sitting alone at the table next to them rose from his seat. Something about his demeanor drew Julián’s eyes. The man squinted around the room as he removed two short stacks of change from his pants pocket and left them on the table.
He was dressed neatly but he had a look about him that seemed somehow frayed around the edges, both personally and appearance-wise. The creases on his pressed dress shirt were practically transparent from frequent ironing. His gaze settled on Julián and he nodded perfunctorily as he reached into his other pocket and suddenly did an odd, spasmodic little dance.
The movement drew Chris’s attention too as something made a metallic thunk at the man’s foot. In his disjointed movements, the man turned and lobbed whatever had fallen across the floor. Julián looked down at the bulky key ring that came to a sudden stop against his boot. He reached down as the man floundered around searching the floor for what he’d lost.
“He must have a hole in his pocket,” Chris said as Julián lifted the key ring in his hand.
Must be a damned big hole for that to fall through it. That would explain the herky-jerky dance he was doing, though.
The ring was filled with an odd assortment of keys, small ones for padlocks, house keys, lockboxes, and even a couple of skeleton keys. Someone with that many keys had a shitload of stuff locked up tight somewhere.
He got the attention of the man whose nerves looked to be every bit as frayed as his clothing and lifted the key ring in his hand. “I think this must be what you’re looking for, sir.”
The man nodded as he walked over to their table and said, “Thank you.” He squinted at Julián and then at Chris, nodded, and turned to walk away.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Smith,” his waitress called as she began clearing his table.
The man grumbled, looked back at Julián and Chris with a trace of suspicion in his eyes before he hurried out of the restaurant.
“Odd,” Chris said as he frowned after the man. “And cheap,” he added as he shook his head, watching the waitress rake the coins off the table into her hand.
The waitress must’ve heard him because she smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind Mr. Smith. He’s been coming here once a week for about a twelve years, or so I’m told. He orders the same exact thing every time, and leaves the same tip every time too. At least he’s neat and low maintenance. Did you enjoy your meal?”
Julián nodded along with Chris. “It was very good, like always.” He pulled some extra cash out of his wallet and left it on the table for her, to make up for the other man’s stinginess.