Chapter 13
Javalynne herself appeared in the early afternoon, javelin in one hand, tattered duffel bag in the other. Barely anyone glanced at the fifty-some year-old Hmong woman as she crossed to the counter, so typical it was to see people toting all manner of things into Crypt Coffee. Sean nearly missed her; Dane had taken a call from his mother and waved Sean up to greet whoever she sent over to work on their wall.
By the time he got to his feet and over to her she’d already ordered a strong coffee and glared at the barista attempting to charge her. Sean wasn’t sure why she needed another considering the smell of old coffee hovered around her like a living cloud, but he pulled out his wallet before an argument could break out.
“Lynne! Good to see you,” he said, and handed over his ca
