Cozy behind the steering wheel of his Jeep Wrangler and on his drive to Templeton Methodist Cemetery on Lisbon Street, some seven blocks from Lake Erie, Avery stopped at the red light at the corners of Washer and Kaye Streets. To his right sat the Kaye Coffee Shoppe, which was never closed in the morning hours, even on major holidays. Half the café was covered in a sheet of icy snow. One window at the front of the business was semi-steamed and iced over. Behind its pain of protective glass sat Tommy Fort, drinking something warm in a ceramic mug the color of Christmas gold. Across from Tommy sat a tall man with thick black hair, glasses, beefy arms, and no neck.
As Avery waited for the red light to turn green, he watched the two men converse: lips moving ever so slightly, strong eye conta
