Blindsighted (Grant County #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,38

three thick ceramic mugs. The coffee steamed as he poured it into the cups.

Pete asked, “You got anything yet?”

Jeffrey took one of the mugs. “Can you run through what happened yesterday? I mean, from the point Sibyl Adams came into the restaurant?”

Pete leaned back against the grill. “I guess she came in about one-thirty,” he said. “She always came in after the lunch rush. I guess she didn’t want to be poking around with her cane in front of all those people. I mean, we knew she was blind, sure, but she didn’t like drawing attention to it. You could see that. She was kind of nervous in crowds.”

Jeffrey took out his notebook, though he didn’t really need to take notes. What he did know was that Pete seemed to know a lot about Sibyl Adams. “She come in here a lot?”

“Every Monday like clockwork.” He squinted his eyes, thinking. “I guess for the last five years or so. She came in sometimes late at night with other teachers or Nan from the library. I think they rented a house over on Cooper.”

Jeffrey nodded.

“But that was only occasionally. Mostly it was Mondays, always by herself. She walked here, ordered her lunch, then was out by around two usually.” He rubbed his chin, a sad look coming over his face. “She always left a nice tip. I didn’t think anything about it when I saw her table empty. I guess I just thought she had gone while I wasn’t looking.”

Jeffrey asked, “What’d she order?”

“Same thing as always,” Pete said. “The number three.”

Jeffrey knew this was the waffle platter with eggs, bacon, and a side of grits.

“Only,” Pete clarified, “she didn’t eat meat, so I always left off the bacon. And she didn’t drink coffee, so I gave her some hot tea.”

Jeffrey wrote this down. “What kind of tea?”

He rooted around behind the counter and pulled out a box of generic brand tea bags. “I picked it up for her at the grocery store. She didn’t drink caffeine.” He gave a small laugh. “I liked to make her comfortable, you know? She didn’t get out much. She used to say to me that she liked coming here, that she felt comfortable.” He fiddled with the box of tea.

“What about the cup she used?” Jeffrey asked.

“I don’t know about that. They all look the same.” He walked to the end of the counter and pulled out a large metal drawer. Jeffrey leaned over to look inside. The drawer was actually a large dishwasher filled with cups and plates.

Jeffrey asked, “Those from yesterday?”

Pete nodded. “I can’t begin to guess which one was hers. I started the washer before she was—” He stopped, looking down at his hands. “My dad, he always told me to take care of the customers and they’d take care of you.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “She was a nice girl, you know? Why would anybody want to hurt her?”

“I don’t know, Pete,” Jeffrey said. “Mind if we take this?” He pointed to the box of tea.

Pete shrugged. “Sure, nobody else drank it.” The laugh came again. “I tried it once just to see. Tasted like brown water.”

Frank pulled a tea bag out of the box. Each bag was wrapped and sealed in a paper envelope. He asked, “Was old Will working here yesterday?”

Pete seemed taken aback by the question. “Sure, he’s worked lunch every day for the last fifty years. Comes in about eleven, leaves by two or so.” He studied Jeffrey. “He does odd jobs for people around town after he leaves here. Mostly yard work, some light carpentry.”

“He buses tables here?” Jeffrey asked, though he had eaten enough lunches in the diner to know what Will Harris did.

“Sure,” Pete said. “Buses tables, mops the floors, takes people their food.” He gave Jeffrey a curious look. “Why?”

“No reason.” Jeffrey answered. Leaning over, he shook the man’s hand, saying, “Thanks, Pete. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

10

Lena traced her finger along the street map in her lap. “Left here,” she told Brad.

He did as he was told, steering the cruiser onto Baker Street. Brad was okay, but he tended to take people at face value, which is why back at the station when Lena said she had to go to the bathroom, then headed the exact opposite direction of the women’s room, he hadn’t said anything. A joke around the station house was to hide Brad’s patrolman’s hat from him. At Christmas, they had