Steve is not there when I arrive, and I am the only one in the diner at this early hour. I check my watch: 4:20. The red neon sign flashes OPEN in the front window, and when I enter the stifling warm diner, Lou is watching TV. He turns and flashes me his gold-grill grin.
“Pretty early for breakfast, Officer Ballinger,” he says, wiping the counter and rearranging condiment containers. “You on duty?”
I shake his strong hand, and slide into a booth by the window. “No. I’m waiting for someone.”
As he comes around to the table with a carafe of hot coffee, I flip over the white cup already set at the table right side up and he fills it with a fresh Arabica blend.
“Much appreciated, Lou.”
Being a regular customer, friend, and cop has its perks: free coffee and glazed crullers.
I look up at
