Chapter 11

First I would like to thank my handful of faithful fans for their patience. I still don't manage to update on a regular base though I must admit I have learned from a couple of mistakes I made ever since I started this story ( I won't tell you what these mistakes are ;-) ) So I hope you'll still enjoy the rest of this fic until the final word.

Mom ..., have a wonderful journey.

The clock ticked away time at its usual pace. As the afternoon progressed Cathy grew more impatient. The minute hand moved exasperatingly slow towards 7 o'clock. She was too impatient to sit still and decided to go wait for him where they were scheduled to meet an hour later. The small restaurant being just a few steps from where she lived it was hardly ten past seven when she pushed the door open. Only a few older people, local residents, were already having a meal.

"You're early, love!" came a jovial voice from a few feet away. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. 8 o'clock it was, wasn't it? Or did I get it wrong?" a middle aged lady asked as she stepped from behind the bar and warmly embraced Catherine.

"No, no, it's me, Francesca. I'm much too early but I had to get out of the house."

Knowing Catherine as one of her dear regular customers, Francesca smiled. "I got you the table over there." She pointed towards a table hidden from the indiscrete eyes of the ones passing by, and who always needed to furtively peep inside.

"Perfect !" Cathy confirmed. Looking from the table towards the door she nodded with satisfaction as she murmured, " And easily accessible."

"Why don't you keep me company while you wait for your guests? What shall it be? The usual red wine?" Francesca asked, reaching for the wine bottle.

"No, not this time. Get me ...mmmm a …, a coffee."

"Uh … Ok! One coffee ... coming." Francesca replied with a little hesitation and a hard to disguise look of disbelief. "Are you feeling alright, love? I've never seen you so nervous before an appointment. Must be someone special." she rattled on, hoping Cathy would tell her. But apart from a timid smile Catherine remained dumb. She tried to suppress a slight blush that uncovered on her usually grayish cheeks.

Francesca observed her from the corner of her eyes. Was this the same Cathy who came to dinner once or twice a week? Hard to believe ... and still …

"... that's when I easily won over $ 5000 on roulette." Francesca said trying to catch her friends attention. No reaction. "I said, love …, that I won the fabulous amount of $ 8000 playing roulette."

"Whhhaaatt?" Cathy asked reluctantly taking her eyes of the entrance door finally looking Francesca's way. "Did you say something?"

Francesca sighed and shook her head "Never mind! I was only joking. It's obvious you' re miles away from here. I wonder what your guest looks like. Seeing the state he got you in he must be … "

But Cathy no longer listened. Through the window she had just spotted Mark and the Chief pass by. She jumped from the barstool and hurried to keep the door open.

"Good evening, Bob …, Mark. I see you had no trouble finding this place. Please, come in. This way. Francesca got us a quiet table over there." She was all nerves again.

"And I who thought we'd be here first and wait for you."Ironside said. Then, pointing his thumb towards Mark behind him, "He absolutely wanted to take the left turn even though I told him twice to turn right."

"Oh, now it's my fault. Who said we had plenty of time left? We got here in time didn't we. What are you complaining, again? Next time ... , you drive" Mark retorted.

Amused, Cathy watched the two man squabble.

Even though no one present paid them any particular attention Catherine had the impression they all stared their way. "Oh, sorry ..." She hurried to remove one of the four chairs at the table. "I …, ah, I, I forgot." her unique, little feminine voice cracked with nerves and the timid smile she flashed only emphasized how uncomfortable she felt.

The Chief gave Mark a meaningful look who returned it in response.

"You're sure you closed the car, Mark?"

"Closed? Huh ...? Yeah, sure I closed it! Oh, I get it. Well …, I'll better take a look or you'll be whining about it all evening long."

"Well! What are you waiting for?"

"I'm already gone!" Mark responded as he started heading for the door.

Ironside turned to Cathy, who surprised by this new comical act she just witnessed hadn't bothered yet to take a seat. He reached for the chair her hands rested on an shoved it back a little, inviting her to sit.

"First shall I order us something to drink?"

"No!" It sounded like an order. "First thing, we need to talk about this."

The authoritarian tone had made her sit down and she now almost whispered, "Talk! Talk ...about what? I don't get it."

He paused a few seconds as he looked her straight in the eyes. His persistent gaze troubled her even more and though she forced herself to withstand it she knew she'd be the first to back down. And so happened.

Her eyes riveted onto the napkin, "Shoot! What is there you want to tell me, or ask me?"

She heard him take a deep breath.

"Everyone was convinced I bought it when I took that slug. But I survived. A small miracle some said. Sure. I'm in this chair today but …, I'm also thankful and ..., happy to be alive." Ironside continued to look straight at her, "Stop it! Please, Catherine. Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for me. Can you just do that? Please?"

Ashamed and at the same time surprised he knew she mumbled, "Is it so obvious? I... uh, I … I try. God is my witness. But …, oh gee, Bob, it hurts. It hurts so bad to see you like this," she said as she grabbed his hand and squeezed I tight. A tear sought its path down the many wrinkles of her face.

Surprised by her emotional response his voice was soft as he suggested she look at it from another angle. "I could already have been buried and forgotten. Would you've preferred that?"

Shocked she looked up with a jerk. "Oh, no! What are you imagining? Never did that cross my..."

Seeing Mark come back in Cathy didn't finish her phrase and hastily tried to recollect herself . Leaning over to Ironside she whispered, "If I do say things or act in a way you don't like just kick me." He looked at her. "Oh …," she put her hand on her mouth, "I didn't ..."

"Don't!" he hold his hand up, " That's better, Catherine. That's the spirit." And they both laughed.

Mark sat down opposite her "I see you haven't ordered anything yet, or is it self service? I don't know how about you, Chief, but I am thirsty."

Catherine motioned Francesca to bring them a bottle of wine and the took time to choose from the unexpectedly well furnished menu. This was not haute cuisine but good smells came from the kitchen every time that door swung open.

The meal took a rather pleasant turn and before they knew it it was way over ten pm.

"This was really nice." Ironside complimented Francesca as she brought them a another bottle. Satisfied he put down his napkin. "Time to move on to what is interesting us. What do you think, Catherine?"

"I already wondered when you were going to bring it up."

"A number of facts were brought to my attention this afternoon and I must admit they are quite puzzling."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that it would not be the first, nor the second time a young girl, working for Mr. Pete Goldham is murdered."

"Who told you that? It certainly wasn't me."

"You know that I'm not alone here, Catherine. The other people you furtively saw yesterday evening, they work for me. They're trained police officers. Do I need say more?"

"Still … it strikes me odd someone brought it up. And what's more, I'm even surprised someone … simply … remembered. After all those years. Who ?"

"You have no idea?"

"Not really, no."

"The girls' landlady. Do you by any chance know her?"

Cathy looked at him, admiringly. "You sure know how to dig up old stories. But in answer to your question. No. I do not know that lady. I might have met her at one time or another, but … that's it. I wish I could tell you more, Bob."

"I had hoped you could have helped me shed more light on the subject. To bad. Yet ... I feel there is somehow a connection between the recent events and this older crime."

"I really wish I could tell you more, but you know how it is …, not a day goes by without people getting killed here in Vegas. It's just one more brief bit of news." she said hunching her shoulders.

"Murder is a serious thing, Catherine. No one, ever, should consider it an inanity."

It was obvious Ironside was a little disappointed by the outcome of this otherwise rather pleasant rendezvous.

"Time to get back to the hotel. It's my treat," he said as he motioned Francesca to bring him the bill.

"Drinks are on the house, and I insist. How about one for the road?" Francesca asked, giving Catherine a meaningful look.

"No thanks, really!" Ironside declined the offer. "Mark! Ready?"

"Hey! But! Wait …! Oh, why didn't I think about it." Cathy said holding her head between both hands. "Sure, that's it. He'll know."

"Who'll know?"

"My friend ... Jeff! The journalist! He'll know." She continued to shake her head, frustrated she didn't think about it before. "Francesca! Can I use the phone?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Jeff? It's me again. We need your help. You're at the office?" she rattled on, not leaving him time to say a word. "Stay there. We'll be there in fifteen minutes." At that, Cathy put down the phone while on the other side of the line a bemused Jeff said, "Who? We?" and then looked astonished at the receiver as he had heard his caller hang up.

"Come on, Bob. Let's go see the eyes and ears of this town, and my friend; Jeff Berrenstein."