Chapter 2 - The Man Who Remembered Her Name
Dominic did not ask Norah about the message.
That unsettled her.
Men like him, she imagined, were supposed to demand answers.
Instead, he leaned back and said, “You can go back to work.”
“That’s it?”
“For tonight.”
Norah stood.
“You asked me to sit down so you could tell me I’m a bad liar?”
“I asked because I wanted to know whether the person who stood up to Valerie was reckless or observant.”
“And?”
“Both.”
Norah almost smiled.
“Enjoy your dinner.”
He returned twice that week.
Each time alone.
Each time he requested Norah’s section.
And each time, he asked questions that did not sound important until she thought about them later.
Did Valerie usually arrive before him?
Had she ever met anyone in the private rooms without Dominic?
Had Norah seen the same men accompanying her?
Did she drink more when certain people were present?
Norah answered only what she knew.
On his third visit, she finally put down her order pad.
“Why are you asking a waitress to investigate your fiancée?”
Dominic looked at her.
“I’m not.”
“It sounds very much like you are.”
“I’m asking what you saw.”
“Hire a private investigator.”
“I have.”
That silenced her.
“What did they find?”
“Exactly what Valerie knew they would find.”
Norah understood then.
“You think she knows when she’s being watched.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she be careless around restaurant employees?”
“Because people like Valerie believe employees are furniture.”
Norah glanced toward Lily.
“Furniture sometimes has ears.”
“Exactly.”
She hated that she understood him.
That evening, Lily waited for her near the service entrance.
“My dad wants to meet you.”
“No.”
“He says it’s important.”
“Your father doesn’t know me.”
“He knows Dominic.”
Norah stopped.
“Personally?”
“Not exactly.”
Lily explained as they walked toward the train.
Her father, Peter Parker, had spent twenty-six years working freight yards around Chicago. He had driven forklifts, managed overnight crews and eventually become a union shift supervisor.
Mercer Logistics owned several warehouses his contractors used.
Three months earlier, Peter had noticed unusual shipments moving after midnight through Warehouse 14.
The manifests listed restaurant equipment.
But the trucks were too heavily guarded for restaurant equipment.
“And Valerie was there?” Norah asked.
“Twice.”
“Did your father report it?”
“To the warehouse director.”
“What happened?”
“He was told to forget it.”
The platform trembled as a train approached.
“Why tell me?”
“Because after what happened at the restaurant, Dad asked around.”
Lily swallowed.
“The warehouse director who told him to forget it works directly for Dominic.”
Norah stared through the arriving train windows.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
Yet someone was waiting outside Norah’s apartment the next morning.
Not a thug.
Worse.
Her landlord.
Mr. Kellerman stood holding an envelope.
“I’m sorry, Norah.”
She knew before opening it.
Thirty-day notice.
“What?”
“The owner is renovating.”
“You told me last month the building wasn’t being renovated.”
“Things change.”
“So I’m supposed to move in thirty days?”
“I’m sorry.”
He would not meet her eyes.
That afternoon Leo called her into his office.
Three customer complaints had appeared online.
All named Norah.
Rude service.
Stolen cash.
Threatening behavior.
One claimed Norah had followed a customer into the bathroom.
“I wasn’t even working Tuesday,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then remove them.”
“I’m trying.”
Leo rubbed his forehead.
“Corporate called.”
“Bellamy House has corporate now?”
“The ownership group.”
“What did they want?”
“They suggested I reconsider your employment.”
Norah laughed without humor.
“There it is.”
“I didn’t fire you.”
That surprised her.
Leo looked offended.
“I’m not completely useless.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You thought it.”
“I definitely thought it.”
He sighed.
“Go back to work.”
That night Dominic arrived again.
Norah did not wait for him to order.
“You need to leave.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because since you started coming here alone, I’ve gotten fake complaints and an eviction notice.”
Dominic’s entire posture changed.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Who owns your building?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
Norah stared.
“What?”
“Not personally.”
“That sentence is not reassuring.”
“A holding company connected to someone I know acquired several buildings in your neighborhood last year.”
She felt cold.
“Valerie?”
Dominic said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Norah stepped back.
“I want nothing to do with this.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You have lawyers. Security. Money. If someone comes after your apartment, you buy another building.”
“Norah—”
“I have eighty-seven dollars some weeks.”
Dominic’s face softened.
“I’m aware.”
Her anger sharpened.
“You investigated my finances?”
“I investigated you.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know whether you had been placed in that restaurant.”
“Placed?”
“To get close to me.”
Norah laughed.
“You think I’ve spent two years carrying steaks because somebody designed an elaborate plan to meet you?”
“It would not be the strangest thing anyone has tried.”
“That may be the saddest sentence I’ve heard all month.”
He looked down.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dominic said quietly, “You were exactly what you appeared to be.”
“A broke waitress?”
“A person with no reason to protect me.”
“I’m not protecting you.”
“I know.”
Something about his answer disturbed her.
It sounded like relief.
After closing, Norah met Peter Parker at an all-night diner near the freight yards.
He looked like Lily around the eyes.
He slid a folded photocopy across the table.
A cargo manifest.
Norah read it.
“It says kitchen equipment.”
“Look at the authorization.”
At the bottom appeared a digital approval code.
D. Mercer Executive Authorization.
“So Dominic approved it.”
Peter shook his head.
“I’ve seen Mercer authorization numbers for ten years.”
He pointed at three digits.
“That one is fake.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the executive sequence changed eighteen months ago.”
Norah stared at the page.
“Who benefits from faking his approval?”
“That’s what I wondered.”
Peter slid another page toward her.
A photograph taken in poor light.
Valerie stood beside Warehouse 14.
Next to her was a man Norah recognized.
Leo Grant.
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“Our manager?”
Peter shook his head.
“Not your manager.”
“What do you mean?”
“That man’s name isn’t Leo Grant.”
Norah looked up sharply.
Peter tapped the photograph.
“I worked with him twelve years ago.”
“Who is he?”
Peter leaned closer.
“His name is Leonard Graves.”
“And he didn’t manage restaurants.”
“What did he do?”
Peter’s expression hardened.
“He handled internal audits for Mercer Logistics.”
Norah sat frozen.
The waiter poured coffee nearby.
Neither noticed.
Peter lowered his voice.
May you like
“He disappeared after somebody stole almost four million dollars from one of Dominic Mercer’s companies.”
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