Sill raised an index finger, telling me that he had it covered. “Relax, my dear friend,” he said.

A woman came in and sat at the counter. There was something familiar about her. She looked slowly around the room. She might have nodded her head toward Sill, but I was unsure. Half a minute later four Sikh men came in and sat at a booth on the other side of the restaurant.

“Put the phone on the table.”

I did.

“Leave it there. Here’s a new phone.”

“Okay.”

“I have to hit the head,” Sill said. “Be right back.”

I sat there alone. The waitress brought the food. I fed a bite of eggs to Trigo. I had no appetite. I looked out the window. Clinton and Mitchell looked like they might even be asleep in the car.

It was not Sill who came back and sat in front of me. It was another slightly brown man and he was wearing Sill’s jacket.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s your turn,” he said. When I didn’t move, he said, “Go to the washroom.” He took a bite of Sill’s white toast. “Go on.”

“Why?”

“Just go.”

I looked at his eyes. He was not threatening, but he was serious. I got up and walked past the old-fashioned cash register and down a short, dirty hallway to the toilet. A Sikh man was waiting in there. Actually it was, at least, a man dressed like a Sikh. He pushed the door closed and faced me.

“Take off your coat and shirt,” he said. “I’ll hold your dog.”

I took off my carrier and handed it and Trigo to him. “What’s this all about? What’s going on?”

“Sill wants you to do it. Do it.”

I slipped out of my jacket and started unbuttoning my shirt.

He put Trigo in a sink and took off his coat and shirt as well. “Do you work for Sill?”

He just smiled.

“Do you?”

“And put on this T-shirt and my jacket.”

“Do you?”

“Why do you think I’m exchanging clothes with you in this filthy bathroom?”

“Why do you work for him?” I asked.

“He pays well.”

I put on the white T-shirt and the jacket. He took off his turban and placed it on my head. “It’s heavy,” I said. “What’s your name?”

He looked at me quizzically. “Why do you want to know my name?”

“I don’t know.” That was true. I had no idea why I had asked his name. I suppose I simply wanted to know something.

“My name is Rick James,” he said. “Okay? Now go out there and sit at the Sikh table.”

I moved to put Trigo back on my chest. “Out there?” I asked.

“No, put the dog in this bag.” He pulled out a teddy bear from a gym bag and handed the bag to me.

I put Trigo inside it, apologizing to him as I did. He gave me an accepting look.