Chapter 12.

As it turns out, where we started was with some shut-eye, as far away from each other as common

sense would it allow.

It had by this time been a full day, and square jaw favored a fresh start.

He didn't see the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed type, but he had me meet him the next morning across from the Gazette building,

and a second-floor coffee shop I never would have noticed if I hadn't been looking for it.

He was there when I arrived, with an oversized cup that made him look like a midget and an expression on his face like a yogi in a trance.

I wasn't even sure that he could see me when I arrived.

Are you having a stroke? Is that supposed to be a smile? I asked.

Sh, he said, raising two fingers and giving them a small, smooth wave like a vaudeville hypnotist.

Why, I said baffled. He didn't look hungover. Or at least no more hungover than he always looked.

Coffee, he said.

Get some.

I shrugged.

I hadn't been getting along with coffee shops lately, but when in Rome.

I walked up to the counter and was greeted by a surprisingly seedy-looking little man.

I ordered a coffee, and he looked at me as if I had just struck him.

He slowly pointed at a large chalkboard behind him, and I realized to my horror that everything on it was coffee.

There had to be a dozen options, all broken down by the point of origin of the beans, as far as I could tell.

Holy Toledo, I muttered. Just give me what he's having, but a normal size. The man shook his head,

not sure you could handle Jack's blend, he said. Now he was just bothering me. Coffee was coffee. He must have sensed my irritation. I'll get you something nice, he said, and fixed me a slightly

smaller bathtub full of whatever it was that ladies drank in this booby hatchery.

...