What’s happening at the bar inside the inn? Nothing, really. Wave drinks, half hunched over. And Frankie chats with him, drying off faux crystal snifters with the hand towel he keeps on his shoulder. I can’t hear what they’re saying because I sneak through a side door to the restaurant area and sit in a shadowy booth near the front, more hidden than not. I don’t see any Russians in the restaurant or bar area.
Being left alone, passing on wait service, I watch and wait for Wave to leave. A string of minutes turn into almost twenty. Eventually, he goes to the bathroom, pays his bill with cash, and exits the inn.
I have this fear that I’ll lose him in the downpour and the evening’s thick darkness. Fortunately, this doesn’t happen. Outside The Hoffstetter Inn, Wave climbs into the back of a
