CHAPTER FIVE
Dewey’s was an all-night restaurant down by the river in the industrial section of town. The place was a facsimile of a railroad passenger car in a bright aluminum and glass setting in a lot with the Little Brown River behind it.
It was a dive Frank and I frequented often.
Especially when we were working on a tough case.
Or – at the moment – a number of tough cases.
A long counter braced by a number of low-slung rotating stools lined one side while booths lined the wall filled with windows. We always took the far booth if it was empty. There was nothing behind us and the one window gave us a decent view of both the river and the small parking lot. We – Debra and I – were sitting in the booth when we saw Frank drive up in the Mach 1. I watched him park and then my eyes dri
