A/N: Thanks for reading. Please pay attention to the chapter titles because this story will not be told in chronological order. Hope you enjoy...and let me know your thoughts.
CHAPTER TWO: Tuesday, January 8, 2013, 8:12 a.m.
Strolling into the library, John was carrying a large cup of coffee. Finch looked up to make sure that it was Reese coming in. He looked back down at his computer monitor when he saw his employee.
"That explains it," Finch said.
"Explains what?" Reese asked.
"Why you're late," Finch answered.
"Just 12 minutes, Mr. Finch," John said pulling up his watch to check out the time. "I'll stay after and wash the dishes or take out the garbage if that will make you happy," he sarcastically added, sipping his coffee.
"We got another number early this morning, so I've been anxiously awaiting your arrival," Finch fretfully said.
"Relax, Finch, I'll get right on it," Reese said in a quiet, condescending tone.
Finch took Reese over to the wall where their latest number's picture and social security number were posted. "This is Mrs. Ester Duncan," Finch said, pointing to the picture.
"She's…." John started saying.
"Yes, she's elderly," Finch interrupted. "According to her information, she's 89. She has led an uneventful life, never been in trouble with the law…never even had a speeding ticket. She's owned and operated the corner deli until three years ago. Nothing special at all. She resides at the retirement center in Queens. Her three children have taken over the deli."
"I'll get right on it. Maybe it's safe to assume that she's not the perpetrator, but why would someone want to kill an old lady?" Reese asked as he grabbed his cup of coffee and headed toward the door of the library. He wasn't expecting an answer.
"I'll send this information to your phone," Finch said.
John didn't acknowledge his boss's last sentence because this was typical of their modus operandi.
John hailed a cab and headed to the deli first. As he got there, he pulled out his camera and began snapping pictures of the people inside the closed deli preparing for the day. He could smell the bread baking, which reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything yet. He snapped a few more pictures of two men and a woman busily scurrying about inside the Deli. He figured they probably opened at 10:30 for lunch. He looked around for a place where he could get comfortable for the next few hours. These three inside the deli, presumably Mrs. Duncan's children, seemed harmless enough, but Reese was smart enough to know that sometimes that type could surely surprise you. They could sometimes be the most vicious.
At 10:15, the woman inside the deli flipped the sign on the door around to Open.
Reese walked across the street to go inside and order something. It had been a long time ago that he had actually eaten freshly baked bread. He had always liked it, but he never seemed to time it right.
"Good morning," the female from behind the counter greeted him.
"Morning," Reese answered. He noticed the two men were still in the kitchen. He looked up and down at the menu posted overhead.
"What can I get for you?" she asked.
"I've just gotten back in town. There used to be an older lady who worked here….Ms. Ester…we used to call her. She would make me the best grilled turkey and Swiss cheese on toasted rye I've ever had," Reese said.
"We only do what's on the menu. Sorry," the woman said. He voice sounded a little aggravated.
Her tone piqued John's interest.
"Are you her daughter? You look a lot like her," Reese said. They really didn't look that much alike, but he thought he would give it a try.
"Yeah…now can I get you something? The lunch crowd will be in here shortly," she answered.
"Okay, well…just give me the turkey club on wheat…the number four," Reese said, pointing to sandwich number four on the menu.
"Coming right up," she said as she wrote his order on a small pad, ripped it out of the pad, and then pushed the paper across the window leading to the kitchen.
John turned around and stepped back toward the front door to switch on his ear piece and talk with Finch. He made sure the woman was busy with something else and wouldn't pay attention to him. "Finch, they seem to be a little nervous about something," he whispered. "The woman, probably Mrs. Duncan's daughter, certainly had no time for small talk. She seemed a little irritated when I mentioned Ester."
"Says here that Mrs. Duncan still owns the deli," Finch said, reading information off his computer monitor.
"Maybe they're planning to kill their mother because she's not giving them the deli fast enough," Reese said.
"Children would kill their mother for turkey club sandwiches?" Finch asked in a disbelieving tone.
"They kill for less than that," Reese answered. He knew that Finch's reference to the sandwich he had just ordered was Finch's way of telling him that he was being closely monitored. He wanted to tell Finch that he got the point loud and clear but was interrupted by the woman behind the counter holding out his order in a white paper bag that had a large red cursive D printed across its front.
"Anything else for ya?" she asked.
"No, this will do," Reese answered.
She handed Reese his change, and he shoved it in his pocket. "Come again," the woman said automatically even though this tall stranger made her a little nervous when he started poking his nose in her private family business.
Reese turned around and smiled at her, taking the opportunity to see what the two men were still doing in the kitchen. They were still kneading dough. "Oh, I will. Your mother…."
"Yes?" the woman interrupted.
"Where is she now?" Reese asked.
"She's retired," the woman answered.
"Oh, okay," Reese said. "Her choice?"
"What do you mean?" the woman asked.
"Did she want to retire?" Reese asked slowly, stressing the word want.
"What business is that of yours?" the woman asked, getting more irritated with Reese. Her gut told her that something wasn't right about this man. He was asking too many questions about her mother, and that made her uneasy.
"She loved being here. I'm just wondering," Reese said.
"Well, keep your wondering to yourself," she answered then looked down at the sandwich counter to begin cleaning it. This was her way of cueing him that she was done with him and wanted him to move on.
John could see the two men in back looking at him from the kitchen through the opening. They had stopped midway through their kneading, hands still in the dough, to stop and glare at the nosey customer.
"Okay, well, have a nice day," Reese said, smiling broadly at the woman as he retreated through the door.