“Miss Barr,” Vicki said.
“Oh, yes, of course. Miss Barr. This is a pleasant time to be visiting Tampa, with the Festival in full swing.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Barr, I’d better attend to this express shipment.”
Nodding his head politely, he disappeared into the house.
Vicki strolled on, and turning a corner, saw a sign that read: Granada Restaurant. It was on a street with the un-Spanish name of Fifth Avenue.
The Granada was a colorful restaurant, and judging by the number of people seated at the tables, a popular one. The foyer just inside the door was floored with bright mosaic tile as were the walls of the room. A tiny fountain in the middle of the hall was surrounded by small potted palms and brightly colored flowers. A huge archway provided the entrance to the restaurant proper.
As Vicki paused under the archway and looked around the room, a dark-haired waiter, wearing a short white jacket, stepped up and greeted her with typical Spanish politeness.
“You’re meeting someone, señorita?” He spoke with a soft Spanish accent.
“No. I’m alone.”
“Then here’s a nice table for you.” The waiter led the way to a small table in a corner. “Will this be comfortable?”
For Vicki’s purpose, the corner table was perfect. Sitting here, she could view the entire room and the entrance as well. She herself was half shielded by a cluster of palms growing out of a blue-and-white urn.