You’d never catch Jenny Craig or Fergie dining at the Cup.

I arrived at seven-fifty. The lot was overflowing, so I parked on the street.

Worming through those patrons waiting inside the door, I noticed that every table was ful . I scanned the counter. Seven men. One woman. Tiny. Short brown hair. Heavy bangs. Fortyish.

I walked over and introduced myself. When Woolsey looked up, two turquoise and silver earrings swayed with the movement.

As we exchanged introductions, a place opened up two stools down. The intervening men shifted over. Patches over their pockets identified them as Gary and Calvin.

Thanking Gary and Calvin, I sat. A black woman moved toward me, pencil poised over pad. Screw the diet. I ordered fried eggs, biscuits, and a salmon patty.

Woolsey’s plate was empty save for a mound of grits topped by a lake of butter the size of Erie.

“Not fond of grits?” I asked.

“I keep trying,” she said.

The waitress returned, poured coffee into a thick white mug, and placed it in front of me. Then she held the pot over Woolsey’s cup, put a hand on one hip, and raised her brows. Woolsey nodded. The coffee flowed.

While I ate, Woolsey provided what background she deemed appropriate. She’d been a detective in Lancaster for seven years, before that, a uniform with the Pensacola, Florida, PD. Moved north for personal reasons. The personal reasons married someone else.

When I’d finished breakfast, we took coffee refil s.

“Tel me the whole story,” Woolsey said, without preamble.

Sensing this was a woman who did not fancy equivocation, I did. Woodstove. Bears. Cessna. Privy. Cocaine. Macaw. Missing fish and wildlife service agents. Headless skeleton. Cagle report.

Woolsey alternated between sipping and stirring her coffee. She didn’t speak until I’d finished.

“So you think the skul and hands you found in the Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, privy go with the bones we found at the state park in Lancaster County, South Carolina.”

“Yes. But the Lancaster County remains were destroyed, and I haven’t been able to read the anthropology report or view the photos.”

“But if you’re right, the John Doe isnotthis FWS agent.”

“Brian Aiker. Yes. His dentals exclude the skul .”

“But if the skul and hands arenota match to the skeleton, our Lancaster unknown could stil be Brian Aiker.”

“Yes.”

“In which case you guys would stil have an unknown.”

“Yes.”

“Who could possibly turn out to be the mother of the dead baby or her boyfriend.”

“Tamela Banks or Darryl Tyree. Very unlikely, but yes.”

“Who might have been involved in trafficking drugs, bear gal s, and endangered bird species.”

“Yes.”

“Out of this abandoned farm where the bears and the skul turned up.”

“Yes.”

“And these dealers might have been business associates of two guys who crashed a Cessna while dumping coke.”

“Harvey Pearce and Jason Jack Wyatt.”