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Teri moaned softly and rolled onto her side, facing the door. I took in the curve of her body under the blanket, beginning at her feet and following it up her legs, over her hips, to her bare shoulders and to her face. When I reached her eyes, I saw her looking back at me.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

“I just got here,” I half-whispered. “I tried to be quiet. Sorry if I woke you.”

“S’alright,” she murmured. “You check on Ben?”

“Yeah. He’s sound asleep.”

“Mmmm-hmmm. Never moves when he sleeps.” She snuggled down into her pillow. “Everything okay?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah,” I told her. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmm-kay.” She closed her eyes. “’Night, John.”

“Goodnight,” I said and pulled the door closed. I stood and stared at that closed door for several moments before turning and trudging toward my bedroom. I knew that sleep would evade me again.

Thursday, April 15th Lazy J Diner, Morning

VIRGIL

A jagged headache pushed inward from the temples, making me uncomfortable and angry as I wandered along Sprague in the early morning sun. The newspaper predicted it would be abnormally warm for the day. At nine o’clock in the morning, I was already roasting in my jacket with beads of sweat rolling down my back underneath my shirt.

Sprague Avenue was pretty quiet at that time of the morning. The locals were still sleeping off their highs from the previous night and the few honest business folks in the area were tucked quietly away inside their shops. The gnawing headache convinced me that I needed something to eat and a caffeine injection.

I stopped at the Lazy J diner. An Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was finishing up when I walked in for breakfast. One of the female members collected their sign from the front entrance, flashing an embarrassed smile when she walked by me.

The smell of bacon grease and burnt coffee wafted around the room, over-powering the obligatory cigarette smoke that accompanies any recovering alcoholics meeting. I grabbed a table near the window and sat facing out at the activity on the street.

A white-haired waitress slowly ambled over to me. Her brown skirt fell below her knees, allowing the varicose veins in her thick, lower legs to show. The scuffed nurses shoes she wore looked several months past comfortable. Her orange nametag read Laverne.

“Morning,” she said with a slight southern drawl.

I nodded back at her and pulled out a pack of Camels.

“Something to drink?” she asked and laid a plastic menu on the table in front of me.

I lit up a cigarette and drew a deep inhale. “Coffee.”

Laverne had large crow’s feet with deep crevices near her eyes. Her dark eye shadow made her appear tired and haunted. “Need a moment to look at the menu?”

“Two eggs, bacon and an English muffin.”

“How do you want those eggs?”

“Sunnyside up.”

Laverne nodded and wandered off to the kitchen.

I stuck the cigarette in my mouth and massaged my temples, hoping to ease the headache.

From inside my jacket I pulled out Fawn’s picture and the article that Andie had sent me on her murder. I unfolded the article on the table and reread it.

GIRL FOUND MURDERED BEHIND BINGO HALL

Early morning discovery shocks neighborhood

A young woman was found murdered behind a dumpster in the parking lot of the Farmer’s Bingo Parlor in east River City. Her body was discovered by a patron leaving after an evening of Bingo.

The victim’s name was not released pending notification of the family. She was described as white and in her early teens. No further information regarding her description was released.

Vivian Marsh, the patron who discovered the body, was still shaken after finding the girl. “No one, especially a little girl like that, deserves to get herself killed that way,” said the sixty-seven year old grandmother. Marsh immediately notified the Bingo Parlor management, who called the police. Patrol units responded quickly.

The case was assigned to River City Police Detective John Tower of the Major Crimes unit. When asked if the murder was sexually motivated, Detective Tower responded, “We’ll have to wait for the forensic tests to come back before we can make that determination.”

No immediate suspects have been developed, but the police department’s Crime Analysis unit will begin compiling suspects who match certain criteria. “Once the evidence is collected, and that includes interviews of potential witnesses, Crime Analysis will input that data into the system and pull out individuals of interest. It’s a slow process sometimes, but we’ve got to make sure we don’t overlook anything,” said Detective Tower.

Anyone with information regarding this homicide is requested to contact the River City Police Department at (509) 555-4100.

“Is that your daughter?” Laverne asked when she brought my breakfast.

I glanced up at her and covered the article with my hand. “Yes. Did she ever come in here?”

Laverne put my plate down with a clatter and stared at the picture for a minute. “She doesn’t look familiar. Do you guys live around here?”

“No. She was hanging out down here.”

Laverne’s face softened and she glanced outside to Sprague Avenue. When she looked back to me, she nodded silently and walked back into the kitchen.

I folded the article around Fawn’s picture and tucked it back into my coat.

After breakfast I wandered back out to Sprague where traffic, both human and vehicle, was starting to pick up. I closed my eyes and lifted my head to the morning sun, feeling its warmth on my face. I pulled out a Camel and lit it.

“Got a smoke, man?”

I turned around to see a young black kid with a serious case of the shakes. His eyes looked older, but I guessed him to be about fifteen years old.

I shook a cigarette free for him. He reached out with a shaky hand and plucked it from the pack.

“Suck your dick?” he asked, lifting the cigarette to his lips.

“What?”

“Suck your dick?”

“Get away from me.”

“C’mon, man, I’m jus’ tryin’ to make a livin’.”

I stepped towards him, ready to inflict the reality of the situation on him, when a loud voice boomed, “Dookie!”

The black kid spun around and looked back up the street at Rolo, the pimp I’d met in The Hole.

“Get your black ass back over here.”

I looked up the street at the pimp and gave a small wave. He ignored my sentiment and slapped Dookie hard across the face when he was in range. East Sprague’s version of tough love, I guess.

The normal players were scarce in the morning, usually spending their mornings hung-over or in a cell block. By coming down early in the morning, I hoped to get a different feel for Sprague Avenue. Down near the ACME TV, a leggy blonde stood next to a bus stop sign, smoking a cigarette and watching the passing traffic with intent eyes.

The girl wore a dirty, red flannel shirt over even dirtier blue jeans. The shirt was open and Mickey Mouse’s face peered out from a faded t-shirt. Her long blond hair was stringy and a month or two had passed since its last bleaching.

A patrol car cruised slowly down the street as the whore leered at it. The female police officer behind the wheel never looked in her direction. The hooker was smarter than I had given her credit for. She stood near the bus stop, acting like she was waiting for a bus.

I lit a cigarette and headed in her direction, hoping to show Fawn’s picture.