Page 60 of Evidence of Secrets

He would hurry. Even pulling out of her made him miss her warmth. They could stay in bed all day. Neither had any place to be. But Hank wanted Laura to sit on the balcony and think of nothing. Maybe not nothing. He hoped she’d think of him but they would relax and perhaps talk about their future.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

Ryan hoped to get to know Laura better before he made his move to locate the secret room. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, but more like he wanted to question her discreetly, find out if she knew more about the history of the speakeasy and its secrets.

He thought he had more time, but that all changed when he got a call yesterday from Al Batters, Fingers’ right-hand man. Typically, the mob left him alone, since he wasn’t a strategic part of the organization. However, Fingers had noticed his rather long absence and asked Al to call, find out what Ryan was doing and when he was coming back. Al indicated that Fingers had questions about his father’s estate and suggested rather strongly that he hightail it back.

Ryan wasn’t going back. Ever.

He had to find the room. Since the bistro was closed on Monday, Ryan thought early Sunday night would be a perfect time to get in and out. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours to investigate. Ryan was sure the room was behind a wall in the storage room. The only problem was that he would have to move a lot of items.

Laura had ingredients stacked on floor-to-ceiling shelving back there. She also stored all the baking supplies and cases of wine. There was shelving on the wall holding dishes, glasses, and wide drawers for stored linens. And three of the walls were brick. Fun times.

He was thankful Jaimie and Laura had given him a tour the other day. It made things easier, because the kitchen layout was clearer in his mind.

There would be no problem getting in. He pretended to look away the other day when Jaimie punched in the code for the outside door that led into the kitchen. He could turn the lights on since no one could see back there.

However, he had to hurry. If he couldn’t find the panel tonight, he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance. Thankfully, Fingers had no idea why he was here.

Although it was dark at 1 a.m., several streetlamps cast shadows in the parking lot. Jaimie told him cameras were covering the lot when he asked her about security. The bistro closed a couple of hours ago. The staff had cleaned up and left.

Ryan pulled his car between two big trucks into a space far enough away from the bistro’s back door so people wouldn’t get curious if it was back there but close enough that if he had to get away quickly, he could. Laughter from several of the eateries on the Riverwalk floated in the breeze. The bars were open for another hour, and people were still walking around. Many of the buildings housed condos on the top floors. People living in the condos would be leaving for work in the morning, and he had a plan for that.

Earlier in the day, he stopped at a big box store and bought black pants, shoes, and a top. Since skiing in Florida wasn’t a state sport, he brought a black balaclava he purchased online.

The air was warm and humid. The tight-fitting dark clothes and face mask were making him sweat. The sweat was already dripping and stinging his eyes. Nothing to do about that. Soon he’d be in an air-conditioned space.

Ryan stayed in the shadows and inched slowly toward the back door. When he got there, he punched in the code and nodded when he heard the click. The door opened quickly. He peeked inside. No one was there. The lights were off. He was golden.

His flashlight provided enough light to find the light switch. He closed the kitchen door and turned on the lights. A sigh of relief came involuntarily.

His watch said 1:10 a.m.

He had plenty of time to get in and out. Hopefully find the entrance on a first pass and leave. Start his new life in the Caymans. Riiight! As if plans ever worked out like that.

The door to the storage was a sliding wooden door. He pushed that aside and looked around. Crap.

Where to start? It was going to take a lot of time just moving items and putting them back so no one knew someone had been in the storage room. Then he had to find a brick or something that looked out of place. Everything he read about these old brick walls with hidden doors seemed to point to a lever of some sort that would open up. Ryan hoped that was true, because he sure didn’t know what else to look for.

If he couldn’t find anything, the next thing would be to try to buy the bistro. That was a long shot. Besides, he didn’t want to spend the money if he didn’t have to.

Laura had an emotional interest in keeping it. She told him how her mother took out a life insurance policy that allowed her to go to culinary school and put a down payment on the bistro. He had no interest in being a silent partner, since there’d be no reason to revamp the bistro.

Ryan felt like he was in a sauna. He didn’t dare take off the mask. The dark, long-sleeved shirt stuck to his body.

He’d worn gloves. Well, just because. He sure wasn’t leaving fingerprints behind. However, he wondered if his fingerprints were on file anywhere. Ryan didn’t think so. He’d never been arrested and never had a job that required fingerprinting. Why take a chance?

First things first. Ryan pulled out all the containers. Jeez. Why did a smaller place like this have so many, and they were frigging heavy. He moved them to the kitchen floor to make room to maneuver. Now all that was left was moving the metal shelving. He looked at his watch. 2:10 a.m. One hour down.

Damn. Who in their right mind attached shelving to brick?

The shelves were balanced enough not to tip over. Ryan hadn’t come prepared with a screwdriver. He took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. He’d do this wall last.

He pulled out the scrap of paper he’d diagrammed on, looked at it again, and put it back in his pocket. To Ryan’s right was more shelving, stacked with wineglasses, wine buckets, and trays. Next to the shelving was a single-door freezer, a wine refrigerator, and a wine rack. He took the wine bottles and placed them on the wood and stainless-steel worktable in the middle of the floor. At least the wine fridge was on wheels, but it was getting crowded in the room. He rolled it to one corner, leaving him little room to move around, plus he would have to move the fridge back to move the freezer in its spot.

What to do with the other items? He’d have to carry them out to the worktable in the kitchen. He wondered why this shelving wasn’t attached to the wall. Odd that they attached shelving to the wall with unbreakable things on them, but didn’t with the breakables. Bah. Not his concern.

When Ryan finished that, he looked around. What a mess! It wouldn’t take as long to put everything back, but still. His arms hurt, and exhaustion was taking over his body. He looked at his watch. 4:10 a.m. Shit. Three hours down.

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