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The diner was small, but bright and clean. Brand-new, built to resemble a converted railroad car. Narrow, with a long lunch counter on one side and a kitchen bumped out back. Booths lining the opposite wall. A doorway where the center booth would be.
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“Couple of things,” she said. “Teale’s got a Foundation board meeting in ten minutes. I’m getting the fax from Florida soon as he’s out of here. And we’re due a call from the state police about abandoned cars.”
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I shrugged under the shroud of towels.
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She pulled over to the curb near the lawn. Nudged the selector into Park. She had a tender look on her face.
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“Did you have any trouble in the army?” he said.
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“Seven years ago,” I said. “Our mother’s funeral.”
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