“Where do we start?” Danny asked, following Alex out.
“Breakfast. Your friends dragged me out of my bed this morning.”
Alex and Danny took a crawler all the way back to the stop near the brownstone.
“You brought me all the way over here for this?” Danny said when they stopped in front of The Lunch Box. “Alex, this place is a dive. Trust me, I’m a cop, I know a dive when I see one.”
The diner was made from a converted trolley car that sat on an empty corner just a few blocks from the brownstone. It had been painted red some time ago, but now the paint and the lettering above the door were faded and peeling. Inside, a long counter ran almost the entire length of the building with a row of booths up against the outside wall. Alex slapped Danny on the back and led him inside.
“Trust me,” he said. “I hear they just got a really good cook.”
Behind the counter sat a bored-looking woman at least fifty years old. Her shirt was stained from years of working the counter and her hair was done up in a messy bun. A faded nameplate pinned to her shirt read Doris.
“Hey Sugar,” she said in a bored voice when they entered.
“Doris, it’s been a while, how’s that husband of yours?” Alex asked.
“Still a cheating bastard,” Doris reported. “The usual?”
“Did Mary get a job here?” he asked.
“You mean the new cook?” Doris shrugged. “Yeah, she’s in back. She does look like your type. You want me to get her?”
“Please,” Alex said, then he led Danny down the bar and took a stool near the middle.
“Poached eggs,” Mary said, coming out of the back. “Can you believe it? Max gave me the job.”
“I’m sure you earned it,” Alex said. “This is my best friend, Danny Pak.” He pointed to the detective. “This is Mary. She makes a mean poached egg.”
Danny’s eyes lit up at the sight of Mary, and he stood.
“Charmed,” he said, taking her hand.
“What’ll you have, handsome?” she asked Danny.
“I hear the poached eggs are good,” he said. “I’ll have that with some sausage and hash browns.”
“Adam and Eve on a log and spike the oval,” Mary said. “Got it.”
“I just want pancakes,” Alex said, not bothering to repress a grin and Danny’s reaction. Mary really was quite pretty.
“And one short stack,” she said. “By the way, thanks for the rune,” she said over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen. “My stockings have never been better.”
“Hey,” Danny said, elbowing Alex. “How come you never give me useful runes?”
“When you get a run in your stockings, let me know,” Alex said. Danny laughed but then his face turned serious.
“What are we going to do about Rooney?”
“Is it possible the thieves saw your stake-out and bolted?”
“Not a chance.” Danny shook his head.
“Then I must have missed something back at Pemberton’s apartment.”
“We must have.”
“I was so sure.” Alex chewed his lip.
“Me too. Why else would Pemberton draw that map of the warehouse? A place where he worked every day.”
“Excuse me,” a well-dressed businessman at the end of the bar interjected. “Could you pass the ketchup?”
“Sure,” Danny said, sliding the bottle down the bar to him.
“Thanks,” he said, then poured some on his plate of scrambled eggs.
“Ugh,” Alex said suppressing a shudder. He’d seen too many crime scenes to ever use ketchup again. It reminded him too much of… “Blood,” he said.
“What about it?” Danny asked, adding milk to the coffee Doris brought them. “Most of it vanished with Pemberton’s body.”
“Not on the body,” Alex said. “On the paper. I’m so stupid! How did I miss that?”
Danny was staring at him, coffee forgotten.
“What blood on the paper?” he asked. “You mean the map? That was clean.”
“That’s my point,” Alex said. “They tore off three of the fingernails on Pemberton’s right hand. If he’d drawn that map for them, there’d be blood on the paper, enough to soak through to the second sheet.”
“Unless he’s left-handed,” Danny said. Alex shook his head.
“Remember the body? Pemberton parted his hair on the left. Most people part their hair on the opposite side from their dominant hand.”
Danny was nodding now.
“If you’re right, Pemberton drew that map before his killer showed up.”
“But why?” Alex asked. “You said it yourself, he worked there every day. There’s no reason for him to need a map.”
“Unless,” Danny said with a sly grin. “What if he was the one robbing the warehouse?” Alex gave him a blank look, trying to catch up. “Think about it,” Danny continued. “Pemberton knew what was coming in, from where, and when it would be in the warehouse. He was in the perfect position to rob the place.”
Alex nodded, thinking it through.
“Probably got tired of putting in all that service just to get a plaque as a thank you.”
“All he’d need,” Danny said, “is an accomplice. He picks out what to steal, then the accomplice uses the map to break in and make off with the stuff while Pemberton goes somewhere public to establish an alibi.”
Alex liked this idea. It explained why Pemberton had drawn a map of his own workplace, and why someone had later beaten the truth out of him.
“So the people that killed him are the ones he robbed,” Alex said. “And they stopped tearing off fingernails when he gave up his partner and the loot.”
“I like it,” Danny said.
“Yes, but our customers don’t,” Mary said, putting full plates down in front of them. “You’ve scared off two of them already. If you want to talk shop, lower your voices.” Her words were admonishing, but she still wore her charming half smile when she said it.
Danny apologized profusely and promised that they’d be quieter. Alex just smiled.
“So, what do we do now?” Danny asked once Mary had gone.
“Personally, I think you should ask her for her number,” Alex said, pouring syrup on his pancakes.
“I mean about Pemberton’s killer,” Danny said.
“We need to find out who had goods in that warehouse the night before Pemberton was killed.”
“Why the night before?”
“Because,” Alex said. “Whoever got robbed had to have time to discover the theft and then figure Pemberton was involved. That would put the robbery the night before. You need to ask the customs people for the warehouse manifest for that night.”
“Why me?” Danny asked through a mouthful of hash browns.
“Well they’re not going to tell me, are they?” Alex said. He finished his pancakes and stood.
“Where are you going?” Danny asked, barely halfway through his breakfast.
“I’ve got to go give a lovely young woman some bad news.”
“Are you finally spoken for?” Danny asked with a smirk.
“No, this is the really bad news.” Alex explained about Thomas Rockwell and his sister.
“Oh,” Danny said. “Couldn’t find him with your fancy rune?”
Alex shook his head and Danny put his hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“You know your rune isn’t infallible, right?” he said. “The guy might be underground, or magically shielded, or maybe he just left Manhattan. That much flowing water would block even your runes.”
“I know,” Alex said with a sigh. “But I found a stash behind his bathroom mirror with his Lore book inside right next to a roll of cash. Had to be three hundred.”
“So he didn’t leave on his own,” Danny said, nodding. “He’d never leave those behind. Maybe someone grabbed him?”