Page 20 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Drinking’s the reason why our country’s in such bad shape. All those kids, off their heads on alcohol. And just look at the place next door! A goldarn eyesore, it is.”

“She was drinking juice.” Sometimes, little white lies were the way to go. “Somebody spiked it.”

“A man?”

I sighed because I knew where this was going. Mind you, even if I’d said it was a woman, fifty bucks said I’d have gotten a lecture on the evils of homosexuality.

“Yes, a man.”

“Young women shouldn’t put themselves about like that.” See? “They only bring trouble on themselves.”

“I understand that, sir, but at the moment, I’m more interested in catching the person who tried to abduct her. Did you happen to see anything?”

“Naw, I didn’t see nothing. My wife told me what happened the next day. Her friend’s husband’s sister works at the police station, and she said the girl couldn’t even stand up.”

“Do you have any security cameras here?”

Old Ed reached under the counter and came back with a shotgun, which he waved in my general direction. I wasn’t sure whether to duck or run.

“Who needs all that modern technology when a good ol’ Remington does the same job? Ain’t nobody gonna steal from my store.”

I backed slowly towards the door, clutching my grocery sack, because the guy was obviously fucking crazy. “Thanks for your time.”

“Try Luigi at the Italian restaurant. He’s got one of those fancy security systems. Japanese. That’s what’s wrong with America nowadays. Foreigners come over here, taking our jobs, and…”

I left Ed and his gun to their conversation and headed back to my car to drop off the food. The only two places left were the Styles & Smiles hair salon and the restaurant Ed had mentioned, both on the other side of the Moon Dog Tavern.

When I checked the opening times in the window, the salon was closed all day on Sunday, so I figured I could rule it out as a source of potential witnesses. Nor were there any cameras in sight there. Luigi’s was in darkness too, although a small sign said the place opened for lunch and dinner. Still only half-past eleven. I’d have to sit it out in my car.

The waiting was the worst part of this job. As a cop, I’d always had something to do, even if it was only paperwork. But working alone, often on one case at a time, I got bored. I missed the variety. I missed the camaraderie of Investigative Services. Sometimes, I even missed Wyatt.

Hell, now I sounded like a girl.

I turned on the radio to drown out past regrets and munched on an apple until Luigi’s opened. I’d never eaten there before, probably because it was the kind of place you took a date and I didn’t have a girlfriend. My last serious relationship fizzled out while I was in the army. After my first deployment, she complained I’d changed, after the second, we barely spoke, and when I came home after the third, I found she’d moved out. Gone back home to live with her parents, or so the note said. I’d tried dating while I was a cop, but the job always seemed more important. And now? Fucking in the back seat was for teenagers, not a thirty-year-old man, and I barely had the money to buy my own dinner let alone a woman’s too.

A light in the restaurant turned on, and it was time to get to work. A tall, dark-haired guy waved from behind the bar when I walked inside. Luigi? No, Mario. I saw that from his name tag when I got closer.

“Table for…” He leaned to the side to check behind me. “One?”

“Is the owner around?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not here. I’m a private investigator, and last Sunday—”

“That girl? The one they found by the lights? People said she was drunk, but I said at the time I didn’t believe it. I mean, what kind of girl walks all the way into the middle of nowhere after a drink or two? She’d go the other way, no? Back towards town?”

“Yes, it’s about the girl, and no, she wasn’t drunk. It was an attempted abduction.”

“Luigi. Luigi! Come here.” An unintelligible stream of Italian followed in both directions. “He’s coming. You want a drink? On the house? We have good coffee, better than the donut place along the street.” He wrinkled his nose. “Espresso?”

Who needed sleep, anyway?

“Espresso would be good.”

Luigi appeared, as plump as Mario was thin, and held out a floury hand for me to shake. “Luigi.”

“Good to meet you.”

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