Gregor, Tibor, and old George all looked up at once. There was indeed a strange man coming through the door. He was strange in the sense of not belonging to Cavanaugh Street, and strange in the sense of being very odd looking.
Linda had been right about the size. The man was very, very fat, but the first thing you noticed was the height. Gregor was almost six foot four himself. This man had to be closer to six eight. He was holding the briefcase up to his chest, keeping his arms clapped across it as if he were carrying nitroglycerin. He looked around the restaurant and then around again. Gregor thought his head was moving too quickly to actually see anything.
Then the man caught sight of Gregor, and the air came out of him as if somebody had punctured his tire.
He practically ran to the window booth and held out his hand.
“Mr. Demarkian?” he said. “I’m Howard Androcoelho.”
TWO
1
For some reason, Howard Androcoelho reminded Gregor Demarkian of Shrek—Shrek the character, and Shrek the movie. He did not look like the sort of man who should run. It wasn’t just his size. He didn’t look healthy. His face was pasty and the wrong kind of white, not like skin but like paper. The veins in his neck stood out on his neck even under all the fat. His hands were faintly trembling. Gregor took it all in and decided that the man was not on any kind of drug he knew the symptoms of. For one thing, the kind of drug that made your hands tremble also made you thinner.
Gregor took Howard Androcoelho’s hand and shook it. Then he looked at the briefcase. Howard Androcoelho looked at the briefcase, too.
“Oh,” he said. “Yes. I brought everything with me. Well, not everything. Copies of nearly everything, though. I got the permission of the mayor. I’m sorry to interrupt you. I’ve been driving for hours. I just thought, it was a restaurant, I thought I’d stop and get something to eat, you know, before our meeting. I didn’t realize you’d be here, too.”
“It’s all right,” Gregor said. “I think Linda reserved us a table so that we could spread out—”
“It’s right here,” Linda Melajian said, moving in quickly. “I just knew he was your appointment, Gregor. I mean, why else would anybody be in here at this time of the morning if he wasn’t from the neighborhood? I’ve got a nice big table. You can empty that briefcase all over it, if you want.”
“Oh,” Howard Androcoelho said. “Well. Thank you. Thank you very much. I’m sorry. I really didn’t meant to interrupt anything. It’s just that I don’t know Philadelphia, not really, and I was afraid I’d get lost, so I started out early. And then, it’s like I said. I drove for hours and hours and hours. I should have stopped at McDonald’s.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Linda said, shooing Howard toward the appointed table. “We can do a lot better than McDonald’s. Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
Howard Androcoelho sat down. Gregor wasn’t entirely sure how they had managed to get across the restaurant to the big table, but they had. Howard sat down in a chair and looked around.
“You don’t have to bother about me now,” he said, looking back at the window booth. “We’re not on till eight o’clock and that’s an hour and a half from now. You go have your breakfast and I’ll have mine, and then—”
Gregor sat down at the other chair at the big table. “That’s all right,” he said. “You’re here, I’m here, we might as well get on with it. Are you sure you don’t need some rest? You look—”
“Terrible?”
“Like you’re about to have a stroke,” Gregor said.
“I know,” Howard said. “Maybe I am about to have a stroke. I haven’t slept for—I don’t know. It’s Monday? Of course it’s Monday. It’s Labor Day. I haven’t slept since last Monday, because last Tuesday evening—” He paused. He put the briefcase on the table and opened it. It was complicated. Straps had to be unbuckled. The leather of the flap was old and bent and wouldn’t straighten out.
Gregor considered offering to help, but thought better of it. He thought he’d only confuse Howard Androcoelho more. Linda Melajian brought over his cup of coffee and a menu. She put them down on the table.
Howard Androcoelho found what he was looking for, double checked to make sure, and then put it down on the table. It was a photograph, printed out on glossy paper, but—Gregor was sure—originally taken on somebody’s phone. For a moment, Gregor thought it was in black and white. Then he looked closer, and it was a scene at night.