A Night on the Town

Anna and Jesse entered the restaurant at 8:00 pm. It was crowded, as expected, suiting their plan perfectly.

Rancho Travador was located in the gaslight area of downtown San Diego. With its bright red awnings and outdoor tables with umbrellas, it appealed to people who liked to mix fine dining with a cheery atmosphere. 

Jesse wore designer jeans with a white polo shirt, looking like a model for GQ magazine. He’d paid more for his joggers than most Californians earned in a week. His face was tanned and

ruggedly handsome, and he walked confidently, a six footer with a worn suede jacket slung over his shoulder. 

His wife Anna was equally well dressed, wearing a BOHO flowing floor-length skirt, white peasant blouse, dangling earrings and necklaces. She carried a large straw tote bag and a colorful shawl. Her long blonde hair had been bayalaged, an expensive method of hair painting. She too was tall, around five foot ten, almost tall enough to smack Jesse directly on the lips when they kissed.  

“I reserved a table near the front windows,” Jesse told the young host who enthusiastically led them to a table near the front entrance. There the couple could watch the tourists and party goers strolling the streets. Dave, their waiter, had seen the couple walk in and he noted that the tall blonde woman walked slowly and was either limping or a bit off balance. She didn’t seem to be drunk, though. 

The couple settled into plush padded chairs and their young waiter approached the table. “Hi, my name is Dave, and I’ll be serving you tonight,” he said, smiling warmly. He handed them menus printed in black and gold script.

Anna scanned the menu, then looked over at Jesse who had already put his menu down. Her face glowed with delight. “Jesse! I love this place. I must order the lobster and steak. A salad too. And maybe another side. A bit of rustic bread. What do you think, hon?” 

“The sky’s the limit!” Jesse answered, flashing a magnanimous smile. “Order whatever your little heart desires,” he said, looking amused.

“You’re so funny. I certainly will order exactly what I want. We can have an eating contest,”  she said. “Are you ordering your usual?”

“Yes, I am! An A5 Kobe 16-ounce steak, onion rings, and a baked potato topped with caviar. I could dine on that every single night.”

“And maybe you will,” said Anna, grinning.

 Anna ordered lobster, a small steak, a side of asparagus with blue cheese, a salad composed of an assortment of greens, seeds and exotic fruits, and rustic bread. Jesse ordered his Kobe steak meal. The waiter delivered their drinks, tall glasses of craft beer brewed in Julian, a small town in the nearby mountains.

Jesse, sipping his beer, said, “We must order champagne with dessert, sweetie.” 

“Yes, it wouldn’t be a meal without it.” Anna smiled and sighed, still enjoying her first $15.00 glass of beer.

The couple devoured their meals, causing flushed cheeks and a cheery food high. The food had been delicious and beautifully prepared. Mulling over the dessert menu, they chose tiramisu, knowing that champagne would go with it nicely, at $30 per glass—or perhaps $3.00 per sip?

Two hours passed when Jesse checked his phone and said in a loud voice, “Baby, it looks like the parking meter has run out. I’ll dash to the car and add a few minutes, while you wait here and pay the bill. OK, sweet thing?”

Anna, sipping the last of her champagne said, “Sure, no problem, honey.”  Jesse strode from the table, leaving his suede jacket hooked over the back of his chair.

Their waiter Dave appeared and discreetly placed their bill on the table. Anna bent her head and studied it while using her phone’s calculator. Then she left the bill on the table and headed to the restrooms, taking her tote bag with her. Anna passed Dave in the hall on her way to the ladies room, and they exchanged smiles.

Fifteen minutes later, Dave approached the couple’s table, where the bill lay unpaid. Anna’s shawl and Jesse’s jacket still hung on the backs of their chairs. Dave glanced toward the hall leading to the restrooms, waiting for Anna to reappear. After watching a few minutes, he finally asked the restaurant manager to check the ladies restroom to see if Anna was in trouble. Perhaps she had fallen down? Her husband was nowhere in sight. Then Dave left his area and took a quick survey of the entire restaurant, looking for the attractive couple.

“There’s no one in the ladies room,” said the manager, a bulldog with a frown. “The three women leaving the restroom told me it was empty, and I went in and verified—no feet showing in the stalls.”

“But his jacket and her shawl are still on their chairs. They must be in the restaurant somewhere.” Dave’s confusion was growing like a weed. “What did the women leaving the restroom look like?” he asked.

“Two old ladies and a cute young chick were the last ones out.” The manager’s face now reminded Dave of a boxer getting ready to throw a punch.

“So no tall blondes?”

“The cutie was medium height, brunette, wearing a short white dress,” the manager said crossly.

“Well, she sure wasn’t the gal I served two glasses of champagne to,” the young waiter sighed. He really didn’t recall what Anna was wearing, but he knew she was tall and blonde, walked slowly and limped. 

The manager thought for a moment, then grabbed Dave’s arm and walked him down the hall to the men’s restroom. He shoved the door open. “It’s empty too, damn it! No husband, no wife. Looks like we’ve been stiffed!” He glared at Dave. “Just how much was their bill?”

“Over $400.00.” Dave gulped. He felt responsible and embarrassed. And the tip, what about his tip!

“You need to keep an eye on people. They’ll rob you blind if they have a chance!” The manager shook his head and stomped away.

But how did they do it? Dave shouted at the manager’s retreating back, “But I saw her limping to the restrooms. She'd have to pass me on her way back to go out the front door. I didn’t leave my area 'cause I waited for people to finish their meals.”

The manager stopped and turned around. “Maybe you sneezed or were you checking your phone? Which is forbidden, as you well know. For sure, you DID miss her, and apparently her husband took off quite a while ago. Waiting in a getaway car, no doubt.” The manager shook his head and stormed off again. “There’ll be hell to pay,” he muttered.

The suede jacket and Anna’s shawl remained on the backs of the formerly occupied chairs, a reminder of the crime that had been committed by the friendly, good-looking couple.

A moment later Dave smacked himself on the side of his head, like Peter Falk playing Columbo. He’d been pondering Anna’s puzzling disappearance and finally he’d come up with a theory. He tracked down the manager.

“We need to look in the ladies room again. This time thoroughly. I just might have figured out how they did it.”

They waited until the ladies room was empty, then the manager taped a note on the door stating the room would reopen in a few minutes. Dave was determined to find a clue. They each opened a stall door to take a look.

It was in the last stall, the large handicapped cubicle—where the damning evidence lay—a large straw tote bag on the floor beside the toilet.

The manager removed the tote from the stall and they examined its contents: a long blondish wig, a peasant blouse, a floor-length skirt. And most telling of all, a pair of towering stiletto high heels, colored bright red.

“So that’s how she did it,” Dave muttered.

“Yup,” said the manager, in disgust. “Now you know why she limped. Look at those high heels! They could be stilts! I’m surprised she could walk in them at all. Must have raised her height at least four or five inches.”

The young waiter rolled his eyes. “She changed her clothes, tossed her wig and heels into the bag and put decent shoes on. I bet she shot out the front door like a racehorse,” he said.

“You can bet on it!” snarled the manager. “But I wonder why she left the tote bag?”

“I guess it’s because I saw her take it into the restroom when I passed her in the hall,” Dave said. “She thought I might recognize the tote, or maybe she just panicked. It’s hard to say.”

The manager picked up one of the red stiletto high heels and furiously twirled it around his finger. “Catch,” he yelled, hurling it at Dave. “A souvenir for solving the crime!” 

Dave yelled, “Evidence for the cops!” and he flung the shoe back at his boss. This exchange struck them both funny and they ended up giggling.

“All’s well that ends well,” Dave announced wryly.

“It’ll end well when you reimburse the restaurant for that food, sonny,” said the manager.  

“I don’t think so,” retorted Dave. It was not only a night on the town, but a night on the restaurant!  In the end, Dave did not have to pay for the lost revenue, but he never allowed such a ruse to happen again.

The police studied the videos taken by street cameras. It showed Jesse and Anna exiting a taxi, then entering the restaurant at 8:00 p.m. A little over two hours later Jesse walked out of the restaurant then sprinted down the street. Soon after a young brunette in a short white dress ran out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk. She was five feet five inches tall.