I turned into the lot, and Remy and I got out of my truck.

Was there a lead on the old guy?

We headed inside the restaurant, passing through the gift area that sold knickknacks and candy. By the far side of the restaurant, Abe was standing with Patrolman Ingram. He saw us and walked closer, meeting Remy and me by the hostess stand.

“I was just about to call you,” Abe said. “The old guy was here. Came in around ten-thirty today after the breakfast rush. Held down an area and tipped heavy.”

I noticed Glenda Yantsy, the blue-suiter from the hotel, was sitting in a booth with a blonde in her late twenties. The woman wore the white short-sleeved dress shirt and brown apron that I’d seen on every Cracker Barrel waitress in my life.

“That’s who waited on him?” I asked.

“She’s a little shook up to discover that he was a killer,” Abe said. “The old guy gave her a two-hundred-dollar tip. Told her he wanted to sit in a specific section that was closed.”

I eyed the woman. She was white with freckles, her face as plain as homemade soap. Her apron had three gold stars on it, above which was her name: Therese.

“Video?” Remy asked.

“Manager’s working on pulling it up. Ten minutes, he says.”

Remy flicked her eyebrows at me and turned to Abe. “I say we let golden boy here chat her up.”

Abe turned to me, his palms out. “Then we wait on your charm with bated breath.”

I walked over, and Officer Yantsy looked up. She introduced me to Therese Kuth and heaved herself out of the booth.

“Therese,” I said, “this is that moment you’ve seen on TV. Where the second cop comes over and you gotta repeat all the stuff you said to the first cop. You okay with that?”

“Sure.”

“I could use a cup of coffee,” I said. “How about you?”

“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “Let me get—”

I held out my hand. “You relax,” I said. “You’ve had a tough enough day already.”

I turned to Remy, but she’d already heard me and was heading toward the hostess stand.

Therese proceeded to tell me how the older guy came in and requested to sit in an area that had just been mopped and was closed.

“I said no.” Therese shrugged meekly. “But he offered me two hundred bucks. Gave me an extra hundred for the shift manager.”

Remy laid down a tray, and Therese instinctively grabbed the jug of coffee. Filled my cup first.

“He had this case with him,” she said, motioning with her hands spread about four feet apart.

I figured this was a gun case, but wanted to be sure. I took the tack of going the other way. “Like a guitar case?” I asked. “Musical instrument? Luggage?”

“No, it was rectangular,” she said.

I’d once owned a Pelican gun case that was two feet by four. About eight or ten inches thick.