Places (Trouble Part 3)

First things first, I had to make a phone call. This briefcase deal was interesting, but first and foremost, this was a divorce case. Thankfully, Sarah Blake was available for lunch today. I find that people are much more ready to talk if they can eat at the same time. Plus I was hungry and didn’t have anything I wanted to eat at the office. I transferred some of the files on my PDA, and started thinking about the briefcase. What could he be exchanging? This was not an official business meeting, their affection showed as much, but he wasn’t on any of the watch lists. He was clean as a whistle. Almost too clean. I call the restaurant where he was seen with his mistress, that’s where I’m eating with Ms Blake. They don’t take reservations, but it’s more of a coffee place than a restaurant. I start looking at addresses. The restaurant is in the west part of town, in this tiny neighbourhood that is slowly growing. Madeline’s address, as well as her husband’s, is in the north part of town, where gated community and rich people are found, and Blake’s office is in the east part of town, where all the office buildings are. I’ll have to ask what she was doing at that restaurant. I look at my watch, and then at the bus schedule. I’m almost late, so I rush out of my office, lock the door and go to the bus stop. I’d pretend the choice was an environmental one, but when a business is slow, you have to know where you can cut expenses.

Over the bus ride I look at the city, or more precisely what the west part of town, what was once the poorest part. When this town was founded, the west was the riches parts, and so people wanted to live here. And as this part got more expensive to live in, crime found its way. At first it started with a branch of the mafia, which caused the land to lose its value. Then it was the motorcycle gangs. But then the police started busting them left and right, wasn’t that hard, they all had tattoos and jackets. So this left room for the gangs, smaller, more brutal, and less visible. There were no pipe bombs, but “random” beatings happened. That was the new face of crime. Or so it was until recently. Recently, in this town anyway, the gangs got too visible, and the punishment more severe. The police were more visible and it seemed that the west part of town was becoming a better place to live in. This was bad news for the south, but that’s where the corrupt unions were, as well as the docks and all the traffickers. Of course most people did not know that. The headlines paint a partial picture of the state of crime in a city. Probably was for the best too.

So the restaurant was there, surrounded by apartment buildings that were too old, filled with people that were too young, and in a part of town that did not know if it was old and refined, young and alive, or dead and decaying. At a first glance, the restaurant reflected all three aspects of the neighbourhood. The name, Jo-Anne’s Diner sounded like it was out of the 50s, retro and very classic in a sense. However, everything inside lacked the lustre it once had. The chrome must have been shiny back when the restaurant was new, but now it lacked any light, and life. Finally, the clientele was young and full of life, as was the staff. It was also quite diverse ethnically and culturally. Call it a sign of times changing, but I am sure that neither Jo-Anne nor her husband would have expected to see one of their tables used by a group of young Muslim women. I really hope this part of town gets better now, it was the first time I set foot here in ages and I really liked this new energy. I walked in the diner, looked around, Ms Blake was not here. I studied the place and found the table I wanted, the one where Albert Thompson sat a few days ago. I sat in his place, and pushed my hand between the cushions of the seat, maybe he had dropped something. After I “accidentally” pushed my spoon on the mystery woman’s seat, making a mental note to not order any soup, I did the same on her side. Nothing. It was worth a try.

I studied the restaurant once more. It wasn’t the best place for a date, no romance, no intimacy. If the restaurant was not chosen for its ambiance, then it must have been chosen for convenience. The woman must have lived around here. Again it was something that did not add up. If the woman lived here, then where did he meet her, he would have avoided this part of town in his daily life. As I was thinking, I barely noticed Sarah Blake walking in the front door. I waved, she noticed and walked over to the booth. Time to get some more information.

[Part 3. I am taking a lot more time than I expected to get where I wanted, but I think it's a good thing. I know where the story is going, but now it feels like the pieces don't fit perfectly, but I guess that's what rewrites are for.]