Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,97
team.
“Shut up and eat your Fruity Pebbles,” I grumbled.
*
The White Palm Cafe was so small I drove by it twice before I finally spotted the flickering palm tree logo on the side of the building. The place was a square, squat throwback from the eighties and a bit of a dive, which the locals loved. The café had been featured on a Food Network show for their crepes. Judging from the three signs in the window, they were extremely proud of that. I briefly wondered if it was wrong to question a suspect over Nutella and banana crepes.
Walker sat at a table in the corner, back to the wall, probably so he could monitor the comings and goings in the café. He was just like Dillon described him, from the dark hair to the thick beard to the plaid shirt. His face was craggy but handsome, in a rough-hewn kind of way.
He looked engrossed in whatever was on his iPad, a cup of coffee and half eaten scone at his elbow. I clucked my tongue. What kind of person went to the home of world-famous crepes and ordered scones? It was almost criminal.
From the way he kept glancing over at the couple in front of him, I figured the iPad was probably more of a prop than anything else. The two women were holding hands over the table and talking softly. As we approached Walker’s table, the flirty couple leaned in and kissed. Walker let out a barely audible curse as I crossed his sightline.
“Excuse me,” he snapped when I didn’t move.
I slid into the chair across from Walker just as Danny took the chair next to him. I smiled toothily. “You’re excused.”
Walker gave us the once over, his eyes narrowed. “Sorry, guys, but this table is taken.” He looked back down at his iPad, dismissing us physically and verbally in one fell swoop.
“You Rex Walker?” I asked.
“I’m not buying anything, and I’m not interested in finding Jesus.”
I glanced down at my gray trousers and fitted black shirt, then at Danny’s dark wash jeans and Metallica shirt. We were mismatched as a team, maybe, but we didn’t look like any traveling salesmen I’d ever seen.
“Detective Christiansen,” I said crisply. “And this is Detective McKenna. We’re looking for Rex Walker.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy, fellas. Sorry I can’t help you out.”
Danny smiled and slid his shades up in his hair. Probably so he could apply his thousand-yard stare more effectively. “Well, if you’re not Walker, then you wouldn’t be a PI. You also wouldn’t need to sit in the direct sightline of that couple over there.”
A waiter delivered two plates to the women with a flourish and they dropped hands to grab their forks and dig in. I squinted at their meals—strawberry crepes with whipped cream—and gave an approving nod. I like your style. Not so much on the cheating, but good call on the grub.
“I think our friend Walker here is trying to stay under the radar. Probably wouldn’t help if we told the entire café that we’re cops.” I pulled out my badge from my back pocket and tossed it on the table. “I think I remember the lyrics to the Cops theme song.”
“You’re magnificent at karaoke,” Danny said generously.
“Come on, guys,” Walker hissed. “I’m just trying to have a cup of coffee here.”
“Shut up,” Danny said without looking at him. “I wonder if he’s gathering evidence of an affair. Maybe even taking some pictures. But a PI operating without a license would be illegal, wouldn’t it?”
“An arrestable offense,” I agreed.
I looked Walker over for a few moments before it hit me. The glasses. His driver’s license photo didn’t mention anything about corrective lenses. Hell, with lenses that thick, he should be able to read the lettering on the Hubble telescope, midorbit.
I held out my hand, and with an irritated sigh, he pulled them off and gave them to me. After running my fingers along the smooth rim, I found an upraised button on the side. He probably used an app on the iPad to work them wirelessly. “Clever,” I murmured.
“What do you guys want? You know I’m on the job,” he bit out. “I’m getting paid a lot of money from the redhead’s husband. The better the shot, the more I get.”
I put the glasses on the table. “Then maybe you’d better start talking about Joseph Carr.”
“Joseph Carr,” he said softly. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.”