I grumbled and followed him through the open doorway. The little restaurant had fewer than a dozen tables, giving it a sort of sweet, intimate vibe. All of the storefront windows were open to accept the cool morning breeze, although I’m sure it was also to entice those passing by to duck inside and have a quick meal after smelling the crackling bacon and sizzling eggs.
Calvin was already getting a table. When the hostess motioned to free seats by the far-right window, he pointed farther in the back where it wasn’t so bright.
I sighed kind of dreamily. Calvin always considered the needs I had that most people never thought twice about. If I wasn’t already dating him, so help me, I’d be on him like syrup on—okay, I definitely wanted some waffles.
I followed them toward a small table near a counter with a sign advertising brunch cocktails. I sat down across from Calvin and put the books on the table, up against the wall. A waiter came by with fresh cups of coffee and menus, then left us.
I pointed at the sign. “Want to play hooky and get drunk on blackberry mint mimosas all morning?”
Calvin smiled at me. “Maybe if I didn’t have an open case affecting my boyfriend’s safety.”
“It’s always something, huh?”
“So what happened?”
“Mr. Robert gave me two more movies for the Kinetoscope. He claimed to have not found where he’d stored them until the first package had been mailed. On my way back from Queens, some punk got the upper hand on me in the subway and stole my bag with the footage in it. It wasn’t a random occurrence—that kid followed me.”
Calvin narrowed his eyes. “You’re certain of that?”
“He was outside the brownstone. I asked him what door on the street was red.”
Calvin reached into his inner coat pocket and took out a small notepad. “What did he look like?”
“Nothing particularly unique stands out.”
“I need more than that.”
I shrugged, closed my eyes, and tried to recall the details outside Mr. Robert’s house, when I’d gotten the best view of the teen. “Casey Robert’s age—twenty, max. Clean shaven, maybe a tan? Tall, average build.”
“Glasses? Tattoos? Scars?” Calvin prompted.
I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “He had to have been working with Casey. Don’t you think?”
Calvin set the notebook down. “This individual is certainly a person of interest now.”
“What have you found out about the grandson?” I asked.
Calvin opened his mouth, then closed it when our waiter returned. We each gave our orders—omelet for him, waffles for me—and were left alone again. “Nondriver’s ID for New York State with an address in Bushwick.”
“That corroborates what his grandfather said.”
“I’ve a meeting with his roommates this morning and the grandfather later in the day.” Calvin poured some cream into his mug. “No missing person’s report has been filed for Casey.”
“Huh. Maybe he’s not close with family.”
“Doesn’t seem to be.”
“Considering his grandfather thinks he’s a thief.”
“If the grandfather is even telling the truth himself,” Calvin added before sipping his coffee.
“True….” Frowning, I reached for the little cup of cream but paused. “Whatever came of that paper ID in Casey’s pocket?”
Calvin set his mug down. “School ID.”
“And the school hasn’t reported him missing?” I asked, a bit surprised.
“It’s one of those academies in Midtown. I requested a transcript from the enrollment office late yesterday evening.”
