“I’m sure you do.” She took a deep breath. “They say that New York City cabdrivers are the best drivers in the world.”

“And they would be right. Anyway, I know where the Pearson is.” Her choice of hotel told him a little more about her. The Pearson was on the seedy side, but safe enough for a woman traveling alone. The combo of the Pearson and the tuna meant that his passenger was pinching pennies.

In the backseat, the redhead cleared her throat. “Uh, Mr. Capelli?”

That startled him, until he realized she’d taken the time to read his name on the license displayed on the dash. “I usually go by Mario.”

“Okay, Mario. You-”

“I know. I changed lanes kinda fast back there, but trust me, it’s how you have to do it if you want to make good time.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about your driving. I thought you must be wondering about all those cans of tuna.”

“I’m sure you have a good reason for them.” He hoped to hell she wasn’t a skinflint. A skinflint wasn’t the right personality type for Zach.

“They’re for the homeless.”

“Oh.” Okay, so she had the generosity gene. That was good, although most of the street people he’d known would prefer a fifth of vodka to a can of tuna.

“See, I knew that I’d want to give them something, but if I gave them cash, they might use it to buy booze. At least the tuna’s nutritious.”

“Provided they can get it out of the can.”

She sighed. “I know. I thought of that, too, but I couldn’t afford to buy a can opener to go with every can of tuna, so I hope they can figure that one out.”

“It’s a nice idea, cans of tuna.” Mario wondered what Zach would think of such a thing. He’d probably say it was impractical to be hauling tuna cans all over creation, but Mario hoped the generous impulse behind it would impress Zach. Still, Mario decided that when he mentioned this woman, he wouldn’t lead with the tuna.

“They were having a big sale on it at the Safeway near my apartment in Phoenix.”