“If that guy is the whackjob you believe he is, don’t you think he’s going to get you out of his way? C’mon, Yuki, think.”

He watched Yuki make fish lips, coming up with nothing.

“I’m not being a prick here because it gives me a thrill. You’re a nice person and way too smart for this. You’re looking for trouble, and I hope to God you don’t find it.”

Yuki wiped the water off her face with her hands, nodded her head. “Do you have to tell Lindsay?”

“That depends on you.”

“I’ll go home, Warren. I won’t even stop for gas. How’s that sound?”

“That’s fine. By the way, your inspection sticker has expired. Take care of that.”

“Thank you, Warren.”

“Okay. Drive safe. Be good.”

Jacobi walked back to his car, thinking about the job. He had a wistful thought about stopping for a hot meal at the diner near his apartment. Then home for a nightcap and the 49ers game.

He heard the radio sputtering his call numbers as he opened the car door.

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

JACOBI PULLED UP behind the blue Ford on the corner of Taylor and Washington. He climbed out into the freaking rain again, walked over and exchanged a few words with Chi and Lemke.

As their Ford took off, Jacobi crossed Washington, ducked under the black awning with gold letters spelling “Venticello Ristorante.”

He labored up the stairs of the cream-colored two-story building, warm air and the smell of garlic and oregano greeting him as he entered the foyer, making his stomach growl.

To his right, the hatcheck girl asked for his coat, an offer he declined.

He stood for a moment, dripping wet, taking in the L-shaped bar in the entryway, the down staircase to his left, the only public stairway to the main floor of the restaurant.

Jacobi took a barstool, ordered a Buckler’s, put his coat on the stool next to him. Then he told the bartender he wanted to use the washroom.

He took the dozen carpeted steps down to the small rectangular dining room, ten occupied tables overlooking the streets through tall corner windows, a blue-tiled fireplace dominating the space.

The doctor’s table was near the fire, his back to Jacobi, an attractive woman smiling into his face. Red wine glowed in the glasses in front of them.

Jacobi walked past the table, bumping the doctor’s chair, enjoying the way Garza whipped his head around, his face an outraged scowl.

Jacobi apologized as if he meant it. “Hey, I’m sorry. Sorry. Excuse me.” Then he walked across the floor, used the washroom, and returned upstairs to the bar.

He drank his near-beer and nursed another, settling the bill after each round. He dropped another five on the bar as the dark-haired doctor and his date passed him on their way to the cloakroom.