of his hashbrowns and slid his plate across the bar where he was sitting. Wintergreenâs asked all single diners to eat at the bar instead of taking up a table for two or four in the dining room. Ted was comfortable eating at the bar so he didnât mind. He ate here only on rare occasions because he thought it a little too pricey for his wallet. He was on his third cup of coffee. If he drank any more he would have to weave his way through the huge dining room to the restrooms at the back of the restaurant, something he didnât want to do.
He hated Sundays. Really hated Sundays. Lately, he hated them more than usual because his live-in significant other, Maggie Spritzer, always had something to do on Sundays that didnât include him. Maybe he needed to think about kicking good old Maggie to the curb and going it alone. But if he did that, heâd have to give up the spectacular sex they enjoyed together.
As Ted sipped at his final cup of coffee, he stared into the huge mirror behind the mahogany bar. It always amazed him how the bartenders knew exactly where to reach for the liquor they needed. No wasted motions whatsoever. The bar mirror afforded him an excellent view of the Sunday diners. Whoâs Who at Sunday brunch in the nationâs capital. Everyone in Alphabet City came to Wintergreenâs for their hashbrowns and Scotch Eggs. Thatâs what they said, but reporter that he was, Ted knew they came to be seen. Everyone knew Scotch Eggs and hashbrowns played hell with your arteries and cholesterol.
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Was that Jack Emery and that pipsqueak Harry Wong scoffing down Scotch Eggs? Yes, it was. And was that Maggie at the front of the restaurant, brunching with Lizzie Fox, jurisprudenceâs answer to sex in the courtroom? Well, bless my soul, it certainly was. Tedâs gaze continued to scan the bar mirror. Well, well, well, was that Judge Easter in the far back of the restaurant? His keen reporterâs instinct said she was hiding. He did a double take when he recognized Easterâs dining partner. Justice Pearl Barnes of the United States Supreme Court. Yep, they were hiding. From the looks of things they werenât eating Scotch Eggs. In fact they didnât appear to be eating at all, even though there was food in front of them. Robinsonâs mind raced. What were the odds of these six people dining at the same place on a Sunday morning? Somewhere over the rainbow, thatâs where.
Ted pulled out his wallet and paid his tab. What to do now? A trip to the menâs room was definitely called for. He could try to make eye contact with Judge Easter just so she would know heâd seen her. Then, on his way out, a stop at Emeryâs table. Last but not least, he would creep up on Maggie and scare the shit out of her. All doable. Definitely doable.
Ted was glad heâd worn his good creased khakis and his tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches, he thought as he made his way to the menâs room, because he was going to be seen . He dodged waiters with huge trays being carried at shoulder height. He wondered what would happen if he accidentally on purpose bumped into one of the waiters. Everyone would look at him. He would definitely be seen. Nah, it wasnât worth the mess, and the three cups of coffee demanded he move right along.
Judge Easter saw the reporter approaching and did her best to fix a smile on her face. She wondered if he would notice that she hadnât eaten any of her lunch. Of course he would. Reporters were trained to pay attention to insignificant details. More important, would he recognize Pearl Barnes and observe her full plate? Without a doubt. He was almost to their table. Nellie inclined her head and offered up a sickly smile. So far so good, she thought when Ted acknowledged her presence with a nod of his own. On his way out, heâd see Pearl full face. Thatâs when he would start to wonder what was going on. He would