Choice of Gourmets from Coast to Coast
Surely it was beyond coincidence that the “chauffeur” for the fake Mrs. Baskoulos had led him straight to a warehouse of the Baskoulos chain. But Don could not fathom the connection.
He followed the refrigerator truck, which swung in behind the huge concrete structure with Grand Luxe Commissary #7 across the top of the building.
Steps led up to the sidewalk platform; he used them. An elderly man in a mackinaw and straw hat sat at a desk overlooking the truck driveway. Don did not indulge in preliminaries:
“Looking for a guy in an orange and blue shirt. Yellow socks.”
“Joe.” The man pushed the straw hat back off his forehead. “What you want him for?”
“Joe what?”
“Maginn. I guess his name is actually Yosef, not Joe.”
“Work for you?”
“Sometimes.
