Twigs’ Diner desperately needed a paint job on the outside. However, the inside looked clean and well kept—though a bit outdated.
The floor was covered in large black and white tiles, and all the booths were upholstered in red vinyl, matching the padded chairs at the tables in the center of the room.
When I entered the diner, I passed by a scruffy teenage boy eating a hamburger at the counter. Then, I took the last booth in a row of four booths at the back of the restaurant.
Except for the boy at the counter and an older couple seated at a table, the place had no other customers. The restaurant was a good choice for a quiet conversation, and I suspected Danny frequented the place for just such conversations.
I ordered lemonade, and the moment the waitress brought it, Danny also arrived.
He started harassing me as soon as he slid in the booth.
“You look well. Did Detective Saxon put that smile on your face?”
I gave him a drop-dead look, and he chuckled.
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