The front door opened and the old crone who lives across the street came in, followed by Jonah Robb, whom I'd talked to that morning in Missing Persons. I almost didn't recognize him at first in his civilian clothes. He wore jeans, a gray tweed jacket, and brown desert boots. His shirt looked new, the package folds still evident, the collar tightly starched and stiff. He carried himself like a man with a shoulder holster tucked up under his left arm. He had apparently come in to look for me because he headed straight for my table and sat down.

I said, "Hello. Have a seat."

"I heard you hung out in here," he said. He glanced around and his brows gave a little lift as though the rumor were true but hard to believe. "Does the Health Department know about this place?"

I laughed.

Rosie, coming out of the kitchen, caught sight of Jonah and stopped dead in her tracks, retreating as though she'd been yanked backward by a rope.

He looked over his shoulder to see if he'd missed something.

"What's the matter? Could she tell I was a cop? Has she got a problem with that?"

"She's checking her makeup. There's a mirror just inside the kitchen door," I said.

Rosie appeared again, simpering coquettishly as she brought my silverware and plunked it down on the table tightly bound in a paper napkin.

"You never said you was entertaining," she murmured. "Does you friend intend to have a little bite to eat? Some liquid refreshment perhaps? Beer, wine, a mixed drink?"

"Beer sounds good," he said. "What do you have on tap?"

Rosie folded her hands and regarded me with interest. She never deals directly with a stranger so we were forced to go through this little playlet in which I interpreted as though suddenly employed by the U.N.

"You still have Mich on tap?" I asked.

"Of course. Why would I have anything else?"

I looked at Jonah and he nodded assent. "I think we'll have a Mich then. Are you eating? The food's great."

"Fine with me," he said. "What do you recommend?"

"Why don't you just double the order, Rosie? Could you do that for us?"

"Of course." She glanced at him with sly approval. "I had no idea," she said. I could feel her mentally nudge me with one elbow. I knew what her appraisal consisted of. She favored weight in men. She favored dark hair and easygoing attitudes. She moved away from the table then, artfully leaving us alone. She isn't nearly as gracious when I come in with women friends.

"What brings you here?" I said.

"Idleness. Curiosity. I did a background check on you to save us talking about all the stupid stuff."

"So we could get right down to what?" I asked.

"You think I'm on the make or something?"