“It’s not bad, for being stuck between a near-new store and a smoke shop,” Brody commented when they entered the restaurant just after noon. “Does it look familiar?”
Hesitantly, Jon replied, “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”
It was one long room, running from the door back to what Jon immediately knew was the kitchen and a hallway to the restrooms. There were several tables, covered with checked tablecloths. To one side was a counter with a cash register and a display of candies and cellophane-wrapped cookies.
An older man—the owner and Jon’s boss, Mr. Pete Franklin—stood behind the counter, keeping an eye on things. People were seated at all the tables, with one waiter handling all of them.
“What happened to Jon?” Jon overheard someone ask the waiter.
“Hell if I know. He didn’t show up this mor
