Chapter Fourteen
The hipster Starbucks across the street had bike racks, so I locked up the bike there and finally, at long last, got a cup of coffee. Spring was turning into summer outside, and I didn't feel like sweating anymore, so grabbed a tall table by the window in the comfort of the air conditioning, rather than out on the muggy patio.
I was about two sips into my cup when a large, black Mercedes pulled up across the street and stopped, blocking the right traffic lane and the bike lane. The passenger door opened. The man who got out was built like a pro wrestler, but better dressed. His suit was tailored to make the bulge under his left arm less obvious. It wasn't effective. Anybody wearing a suit coat in this weather was concealing either a weapon or some kind of mental illness.
