Irwin’s men were tired and hungry. They’d made good time on the trip from Maryland but the bitch attorney wasn’t even home. Gregor, the older of the two, had driven the first leg of the trip, so now Anton was driving around Shadyside.
Apparently, he was hoping they’d find her just walking through her neighborhood at five in the morning. Anton was just muscle. It fell to Gregor to supply both muscle and brains.
Anton palmed the steering wheel and turned left on Walnut Street, which was some fancy-looking commercial strip. It was like someone had dumped an upscale mall out onto the sidewalk. Pricey brands like Banana Republic, Williams-Sonoma, Anne Taylor, and an Apple Store were scattered among ethnic restaurants and little boutiques. Nestled in among the hulking chains were a stationery store, a Thai restaurant, a jewelry store, a sushi joint, an art gallery, a coffee shop, a Chinese restaurant, and a martini bar—nuggets of local flavor to break up the mall vibe. Gregor also noticed some clear holdover establishments that must have predated the yuppification of the street. He counted a card store, a dive bar, and a bakery that looked like they hadn’t been updated since they’d opened.
“You sure you got her make and model right?” Gregor asked.
Anton rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I was sure last time you asked. I’m still sure. I’ll be sure next time you ask. It’s a 2009 Passat. The coupe, not the wagon. It’s dark gray. Usually dirty, the security guy said.”
Security guys. In their line of work, Gregor and Anton had found security guards to be the most reliable source of information. Easy, too. Half the time, they didn’t even have to bribe a security guard. He’d start talking right away, just to show how observant he was or some shit.
“The reason I’m asking,” Gregor continued, ignoring the eye roll, “is that on our last two passes of the lot, there was a new car there. Mid-size, blue, Nebraska plates.”
“Not her ride, Gregor. She must be spending the night at a boyfriend’s or something.”
Gregor nodded. Finding her was going to be the hard part. The helpful security guard had described her for them. Under five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. If he’d have known that, Gregor would have sent Anton out here alone. Two of them was overkill.
The car crept passed a joint called Pamela’s. Gregor peered through the windshield, spotted with bug guts from the long drive. A banner hanging over the door bragged that the place had Pittsburgh’s best breakfast. He squinted at the menu posted in the front window. Pancakes.
“Pull over. I gotta piss. We’ll get breakfast. Irwin’s treat.”
Gregor hated that uptight, nerdy asshole. He was going to get the biggest breakfast Pamela’s had to offer. Maybe two of them.