Chapter 97

The table I booked nestles in one of the booths, secluded and to the rear of the dining area. As we take our seats, the waiter scoops up the Reserved label.

A matching Reserved sign sits on the table in the next booth, equally secluded, back to back with our own. Claudia and I sit together, facing away from that booth.

The waiter looms. "Something to drink while you wait for your party?"

"Claudia?"

"Whatever you're getting."

"A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc," I say.

The waiter sniffs. "Very good, Madam."

I nudge Claudia. "I ordered the right table, did I? This one behind us is where they sat?"

"Yup. So long as they come to the same table, they'll be right behind us." Glancing across toward the waiters, she fiddles with her phone, then twists, trailing a fine cable between us, then behind, winding it into one of the plants twining into the screen. "Camera and microphone," she says, flashing brows. "My phone as it is would probably catch what they're saying, but this is better."

"Waiter's c