Leader of the Pack (Andy Carpenter) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Nicky’s death, in case he hadn’t heard. Obviously he had.
    “I assume you didn’t get to see him?” he asks.
    “Actually, I did. The day he died.”
    “No kidding? That was fast. I’m glad you did. Was he coherent?”
    “He went in and out. But he said a couple of things that I wanted to talk to you about.”
    I go on to tell him what Nicky said about Richard Solarno, and ask him if it makes any sense.
    “Not much,” he says. “I don’t even think Nicky knew him. How would he?”
    “I was hoping you could tell me that.”
    “I can’t. They lived in different worlds. Unless Nicky was also sleeping with Karen.”
    Joey isn’t serious when he says that; it just reflects his continued bitterness about the way Karen Solarno dumped him. It’s an attitude that was damaging to him; witnesses testified about Joey’s anger at Karen, and it contributed to the prosecution’s theory on motive.
    “Did you have any suspicions Richard might be into anything illegal?” I ask.
    “Does domestic violence count?”
    “He beat his wife?”
    “According to Karen.”
    “Interesting, but it doesn’t fit,” I say.
    “I wish I could say otherwise, but Nicky was probably just babbling,” Joey says.
    “Well, he did offer me some of his pasta when I saw him.”
    “So?”
    “He was eating M&M’s at the time.”
    Joey laughs. “You know, I should be trying to get you to think Nicky was sharp as a tack.”
    “Why?”
    “Because if you dig into it, then maybe there’s a one percent chance of you finding something. Which is one percent more of a chance than I’ve got now.”
    “You know damn well I’m going to dig into it,” I say.
    He smiles. “Yeah. You want me to get you some money for your time?”
    “I should be paying you,” I say.
    “For what?”
    “For getting me out of the therapy business.”

 
    I’m generally really nice to waiters and waitresses. I smile, ask them how they are, thank them whenever they serve me something, and tip really well.
    I am Andy Carpenter, man of the people.
    But there is one thing that some of them do that annoys me, and Laurie has just told me it’s about to happen.
    We’re at the Bonfire, a restaurant on Market Street in Paterson. It’s a nice place that I have some emotional ties to, in that it was a hangout on Friday and Saturday nights back in high school. It’s where we would go after dates, or, in my case, after not having a date.
    We’ve just sat down and are looking at the menus, though I pretty much know the selections by heart. Our waiter is taking the orders of the four people at the table next to us, and Laurie has been glancing over at them, so she knows that what’s about to happen is going to bug me.
    After she alerts me to it, she says, “In the meantime, tell me about Nicky Fats and Joey.”
    “Let’s wait until we order. This could take awhile.”
    What Laurie had noticed is that the waiter is not writing anything down as people are ordering their food. He just nods and answers whatever questions they have. There is no way that waiters can remember everything, and I am always positive they are going to make mistakes. Sometimes they don’t, but whenever it happens I am sure that they will.
    This time, to drive me even more insane, the waiter doesn’t put in the orders of the four people at the adjacent table. He just comes straight over to us, which means he’s going to have to remember six people’s worth of food.
    What could possibly be the upside in not writing it down? He’s going to have to tell it to the chef in a few minutes anyway. The chef will write it down, won’t he? Or is he a memory expert also? Why not write it down, hand it to the chef, and be done with it?
    He comes over to us and says, “My name is Danny. Welcome to the Bonfire. Are we ready to order?”
    I say, “We sure are.” What I don’t say, but which I’m thinking, is “Danny boy, prepare to suffer.”
    Laurie orders first, a house salad and then the grilled