King City by Lee Goldberg Page B

was too clueless to realize how much danger he was in.
    ____
    Wade had two hours before his next twelve‐hour shift, so he headed to Pancake Galaxy for an early dinner and plenty of caffeine.
    But if he was honest with himself, and he usually was, it wasn’t really the food, or the convenience, that led him across the street. He wanted to see Amanda Guthrie again.
    There were about a dozen customers in the restaurant, most of them middle‐aged. Mandy worked the front counter while another waitress, a good twenty years older than she, covered the tables. Old man Guthrie was at the cash register with his oxygen tank, his cigarettes, and his shotgun.
    “You’re still alive,” Guthrie said.
    “So are you,” Wade said.
    “The odds were more in my favor.”
    Wade took a seat at the counter. Mandy came over and poured him a cup of coffee.
    “How was your first day?” she asked with a smile.
    “You’ll have to ask me tomorrow,” he said. “It’s not over yet.”
    “What are your hours?”
    “Today it’s twenty‐four, but starting tomorrow, my shift is nine at night to nine in the morning.”
    “Yikes. I’ll make you a canteen of coffee that you can take with you tonight.”
    “That would be nice,” he said.
    “Everybody’s talking about you,” Mandy said. “Your showdown with Timo, you moving in, the sit‐down with Duke, your arrest of that junkie.”
    “Word gets around,” he said.
    “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
    It was and she got points in his book for knowing it.
    “So what’s the consensus?” he asked.
    “Duke bought you, or you’d already be dead.”
    “What do you think?”
    “I think if you could be bought, you’d still be in the Major Crimes Unit and not here.”
    “You read up on me,” he said.
    “I did,” Mandy said. “What would you like for dinner?”
    “The usual.”
    “You’ve only been here once.”
    “Now you know how much I liked it.”
    She took the order back to the cook in the kitchen and then served some other patrons at the counter.
    While Mandy did that, two of the guys who’d trashed Wade’s car came in and approached Guthrie. But they kept their eyes on Wade, staring at him with cold hate.
    Wade just sipped his coffee, unperturbed by their presence, which perturbed them plenty.
    Without a word, Guthrie opened the register, took out some money, and handed it to them. They walked out.
    Wade had another sip of coffee. “Donating to charity?”
    “Paying my weekly security bill,” Guthrie said.
    “I thought this was hallowed ground.”
    “Even the Vatican needs security,” Guthrie said.
    “I don’t recall seeing any smiling pancakes on the walls of the Sistine Chapel.”
    “If you look closely, they’re there,” Guthrie said. “Michelangelo hid pancakes everywhere. It was his thing.”
    “Have you thought about not paying?” Wade asked.
    “The DVD place tried that,” Guthrie said. “They had a fire and now they’re gone.”
    “But now you’ve got a police station right across the street,” Wade said. “That changes things.”
    “We’ll see,” Guthrie said and starting coughing.
    Mandy came out of the kitchen with Wade’s pancakes and bacon and carried them to an empty booth by the window. She set the plates down on the table and came back to the counter.
    “Your dinner is getting cold,” she said.
    He picked up his coffee and went over to the booth. A moment later, Mandy slid into the bench seat across from him, setting down the pot of coffee and half of an apple pie.
    “What are we doing over here?” Wade asked as he started to eat.
    “I wanted some privacy while I chatted with you.”
    “Do you want to tell me something that you don’t want your father to overhear?”
    “I might say something racy and suggestive.”
    “Like what?”
    She picked up a fork and took a bite of his pancakes. “I haven’t had sex in six months.”
    “Oh,” Wade said.
    “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
    “Nope,” Wade said,