Bombshell
Page 65
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“What? Who? What did you say, Delsey?”
“Anna. She’s very cool, isn’t she? And here she comes, and would you look at that, her eyes are locked right on you, like a laser. Hmmm again.”
Griffin eyed his spoonful of mushroom soup. “Shut up.”
“Have I been missing something since I got my brain addled?”
“No more than usual. Eat your salad.”
She forked up some lettuce with Maurie’s signature dressing. “So if you’re not checking out Anna, what are you thinking about? That DEA agent? I’ll tell you, Griffin, I can’t get over that. Every time I think about him, I get cold and want to cry. I wish I knew why he was in my apartment in the first place.”
Griffin was silent as a post and spooned up some more soup.
“Hi, Anna.” Delsey popped another french fry into her mouth. “Tell Maurie his fries are still the best, and the salad—I’ll eat the salad if you put a gun to my head.”
“I’ll tell him, but he knows it. He always eats two fries out of every order, for quality-control purposes, he tells me. And would you look at him, skinny as a fence post. Hey, Mr. FBI, how’s your soup?”
“It’s great.”
Anna looked down at the nearly full bowl. “Great, huh? You on a diet, Griffin? Nope, not even a shadow of flab on you. You’re not eating because you’re still worried about Delsey, aren’t you? Well, stop it. Look at her, she looks ready to salsa on Main Street.”
“Maybe tomorrow, Anna,” Delsey said, and Griffin saw his sister look from Anna back to him. “We were talking about that poor DEA agent. I overheard Griffin and Ruth talking about him at the hospital and why he was here in Maestro.” She drew a deep breath. “And I heard them talk about maybe Professor Salazar being the drug czar, or whatever you’d call it.”
Griffin said, “Do you ever remember seeing anyone hinky at Stanislaus, Delsey? Anyone who didn’t look right being there?”
“There are always so many people visiting Stanislaus—that’s why it’s such a great place. Musicians performing from out of state and their entourages, critics, writers, so yes, lots of strangers. I’d have to say Professor Salazar has more strangers than anyone cruising around him. I’ve asked who they were and was told they were visiting friends, from Europe, from New York, classical guitarists from all over the country here to worship at his Gucci-clad feet. All of them looked like they fit right in.”
Griffin said, “When I met Salazar at his house yesterday morning, he was wearing moccasins.”
“I’ll bet they were Gucci,” Delsey said.
“Dels, did you ever see any Hispanic guys hanging around him?”
Delsey shook her head. “No, and I already told you, I never saw the man who hit me before, only heard two men’s voices. Anna, have you ever noticed any young Hispanic guys in the diner before?”
Anna shook her head.
Griffin watched his sister’s forehead knit, a sure sign she was thinking. She leaned close. “What about Mrs. Carlene?”
Griffin went on alert. “Who’s Mrs. Carlene?”
Anna said, “She’s Professor Salazar’s secretary. She came with him when he arrived at Stanislaus this past September.”
Griffin said, “Mrs. Carlene sounds very Southern. How would a musician from Madrid hook up with a Mrs. Carlene?”
Delsey said, “I don’t know, never thought about it, really. I overheard her.”
Griffin would find out all about Mrs. Carlene. “So what did you overhear?”
“It was last November, and I’d left a theory class with Professor Coffman in Brackford Hall, and I heard Gloria Brichoux Stanford—she’s a famous violinist, retired—”
“I don’t live off the planet, Delsey. I’ve heard her play. Go on.”
“She was speaking with another professor, I don’t remember who it was, woodwinds, I think, and he was telling her that Mrs. Carlene guarded Dr. Salazar like a lioness with her only cub. I heard Ms. Stanford say she was so secretive she wouldn’t even let anyone hear her speak on the telephone. She said Mrs. Carlene noticed her standing close by and clammed right up, didn’t say another word, punched off her cell. I remember the woodwinds professor shook his head like who cares? I didn’t hear anything more. But I didn’t forget it, it was too weird.”
Delsey shook her head. “I can’t get over you believing Professor Salazar might be a drug kingpin. I can’t fathom it.” She paused for a moment. “What I mean is he’s got everything, more than everything, he’s at the very top, but to sell drugs to teenagers? I know you guys think the same thing.
“Anna. She’s very cool, isn’t she? And here she comes, and would you look at that, her eyes are locked right on you, like a laser. Hmmm again.”
Griffin eyed his spoonful of mushroom soup. “Shut up.”
“Have I been missing something since I got my brain addled?”
“No more than usual. Eat your salad.”
She forked up some lettuce with Maurie’s signature dressing. “So if you’re not checking out Anna, what are you thinking about? That DEA agent? I’ll tell you, Griffin, I can’t get over that. Every time I think about him, I get cold and want to cry. I wish I knew why he was in my apartment in the first place.”
Griffin was silent as a post and spooned up some more soup.
“Hi, Anna.” Delsey popped another french fry into her mouth. “Tell Maurie his fries are still the best, and the salad—I’ll eat the salad if you put a gun to my head.”
“I’ll tell him, but he knows it. He always eats two fries out of every order, for quality-control purposes, he tells me. And would you look at him, skinny as a fence post. Hey, Mr. FBI, how’s your soup?”
“It’s great.”
Anna looked down at the nearly full bowl. “Great, huh? You on a diet, Griffin? Nope, not even a shadow of flab on you. You’re not eating because you’re still worried about Delsey, aren’t you? Well, stop it. Look at her, she looks ready to salsa on Main Street.”
“Maybe tomorrow, Anna,” Delsey said, and Griffin saw his sister look from Anna back to him. “We were talking about that poor DEA agent. I overheard Griffin and Ruth talking about him at the hospital and why he was here in Maestro.” She drew a deep breath. “And I heard them talk about maybe Professor Salazar being the drug czar, or whatever you’d call it.”
Griffin said, “Do you ever remember seeing anyone hinky at Stanislaus, Delsey? Anyone who didn’t look right being there?”
“There are always so many people visiting Stanislaus—that’s why it’s such a great place. Musicians performing from out of state and their entourages, critics, writers, so yes, lots of strangers. I’d have to say Professor Salazar has more strangers than anyone cruising around him. I’ve asked who they were and was told they were visiting friends, from Europe, from New York, classical guitarists from all over the country here to worship at his Gucci-clad feet. All of them looked like they fit right in.”
Griffin said, “When I met Salazar at his house yesterday morning, he was wearing moccasins.”
“I’ll bet they were Gucci,” Delsey said.
“Dels, did you ever see any Hispanic guys hanging around him?”
Delsey shook her head. “No, and I already told you, I never saw the man who hit me before, only heard two men’s voices. Anna, have you ever noticed any young Hispanic guys in the diner before?”
Anna shook her head.
Griffin watched his sister’s forehead knit, a sure sign she was thinking. She leaned close. “What about Mrs. Carlene?”
Griffin went on alert. “Who’s Mrs. Carlene?”
Anna said, “She’s Professor Salazar’s secretary. She came with him when he arrived at Stanislaus this past September.”
Griffin said, “Mrs. Carlene sounds very Southern. How would a musician from Madrid hook up with a Mrs. Carlene?”
Delsey said, “I don’t know, never thought about it, really. I overheard her.”
Griffin would find out all about Mrs. Carlene. “So what did you overhear?”
“It was last November, and I’d left a theory class with Professor Coffman in Brackford Hall, and I heard Gloria Brichoux Stanford—she’s a famous violinist, retired—”
“I don’t live off the planet, Delsey. I’ve heard her play. Go on.”
“She was speaking with another professor, I don’t remember who it was, woodwinds, I think, and he was telling her that Mrs. Carlene guarded Dr. Salazar like a lioness with her only cub. I heard Ms. Stanford say she was so secretive she wouldn’t even let anyone hear her speak on the telephone. She said Mrs. Carlene noticed her standing close by and clammed right up, didn’t say another word, punched off her cell. I remember the woodwinds professor shook his head like who cares? I didn’t hear anything more. But I didn’t forget it, it was too weird.”
Delsey shook her head. “I can’t get over you believing Professor Salazar might be a drug kingpin. I can’t fathom it.” She paused for a moment. “What I mean is he’s got everything, more than everything, he’s at the very top, but to sell drugs to teenagers? I know you guys think the same thing.
