Every minute or so, as Duke was eating his lunch, various people stopped by his table to say hello. “How’s the Duke?” “That was a mighty fast trip to Havana!” “What’s the good word, Duke?” He certainly was a popular man in Ybor City, Vicki could see that plainly.
Duke took his time finishing lunch. Vicki sipped at her coffee and finally ordered another pot which she didn’t want. At last, Duke called for his check, paid it, and got to his feet. Vicki called for her own check at the same time, and by the time Arturo had taken her money and returned with her change, and she had stepped out once again into Fifth Avenue, she saw Duke’s tall, broad-shouldered figure down at the end of the block.
Vicki had come to Ybor City on the off-chance that she might again see the little old man from the plane. Instead, she had run into the mysterious Mr. Duke, the man who had offered Joey some kind of “job” on the afternoon before the gold robbery. Could there possibly be a connection somewhere? She didn’t see how, but since she’d come this far, her detective instincts were too keen to let her stop now.
She sauntered in Duke’s direction.
It was well that she walked slowly. Duke was stopped half a dozen times in two blocks by people who loudly addressed him as “The Duke” and exchanged pleasantries with him. Finally he turned into the hallway of a house, pressed the buzzer, and when it was answered, disappeared through the door. Clearly this was neither his house nor his office or he would have gone in without ringing the bell. Vicki waited on the street for fifteen minutes, looking in the shopwindows and trying her best to act like a tourist. But Mr. Duke did not reappear. On an impulse, she retraced her steps to the Granada Restaurant.
The big room was now more than half empty, settling down as do all restaurants into the mid-afternoon doldrums. Arturo, the waiter, was sitting at a table writing out the evening menus in Spanish, in purple ink, on large sheets of yellow paper. He looked up as Vicki approached.
“Yes, señorita?”
“It’s about Mr. Duke. I have some business with him. Unfortunately I don’t have his address. I thought possibly you might help me.” She took a dollar bill from her purse and placed it on the table. “This is for your trouble.”
The waiter took the bill and slipped it into his pocket. “Ah, yes,” he said. “But weren’t you here at lunch when Mr. Duke was here?”
“Yes—” Vicki hesitated. “But he was speaking to so many people—”