I immediately went to the high cabinet in my kitchen, to a stack of dish towels and extra pot holders. I stood on my toes to find the blue oven mitt I was looking for. I pulled it down, reached inside, and slid out the Beretta 9mm that fit inside the mitt like it was made for it. An old trick I learned from a chief petty officer in San Diego. No one ever wants to look through your kitchen linen.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, Bart was up on the bed, nuzzling in close to me. I wrapped my left arm around him and kept the pistol in my right hand. I was nearly unconscious in seconds.

It felt like I had only dozed off for a minute when my alarm went off, blaring Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused.” Habit pushed me up out of bed, and I led Bart to the front door so he could race outside and do his business.

Bart opted to stay in the house while I headed off to work and went through the motions of delivering papers. Maybe that’s why I kept this job: on the days I needed it, I didn’t have to think about it at all.

I was hungry and looking forward to chatting with Mabel, so I got to the diner a few minutes earlier than usual. Now every time I walked into a public place I automatically looked for the three strangers. This morning it was just locals. But there was one surprise. Instead of Mabel behind the counter, it was the lovely Tina herself. She rarely stepped in as a waitress anymore, preferring to run the kitchen and do all the restaurant managing.

Tina had been a year ahead of me in school, and she still looked great, if a little stern. She’d always been businesslike, but this morning she acted like a Marine drill sergeant, barking orders back to my cousin in the kitchen and telling her nephew to be quicker busing the tables.

My booth was taken, so I sat at the counter directly in front of the door. Tina managed to flash me one quick smile and got right to the point. “Make it fast, Mitchum. What do you want?”

“Where’s Mabel?”

“She didn’t show this morning and she’s not answering her damn cell.”

I could tell it wasn’t a good time to pursue any more questions about the tardy waitress. Not if I didn’t want to risk her job.

Instead, I just said, “It’s not like her. She never misses a shift. She needs the money.”

But Tina’s glare told me Mabel might not get a second chance.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13