with.
Murphy Dolan, the landlord, had returned unexpectedly and was staying with Kate. Did she know him from her life before? None of the research saved on the laptop sitting on a chair next to the tub pointed that way. This was her first time in Pennsylvania, and Dolan had never lived anyplace else.
Dolan was a cop and a soldier. He had skills, but they shouldn’t be a threat. There were skilled men, and then there were assassins. They were hardly in the same category.
Still, another person in the house could mean complications.
He splashed in the water as he shifted to stretch his legs. He closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him in a haze of well-being. He had time.
Kate was a job he’d chosen, personal, without deadlines, without restrictions, without a client who would change his mind half a dozen times and try to micromanage him. He could afford to take his time with Kate Bridges. Katherine Concord now.
Becoming her friend hadn’t been difficult. Yes, she was vigilant, but she was also lonely. He’d chosen the perfect disguise, the perfect persona to sneak past her defenses.
He’d see her today. He’d ask her about Dolan then. And she would talk to him because she trusted him.
He liked this new game, to have the leisure for something like this. He enjoyed being an assassin on holiday.
* * *
“Have a great day!” Kate called after a departing customer, then winced as pain shot up her elbow, her arm overloaded with the heavy tray.
Work was a blur. All those people who wrote cheerfully quaint books and movies about the slow pace of small town life never worked in a small town diner.
The Main Street Diner was a well-known fixture of Broslin, serving home-style meals and coffee since before the township had been incorporated. Since the town was famous for growing mushrooms, they put mushrooms in nearly everything, including dessert. Eileen, the owner, was known for her mushroom ice cream, which tasted a little like cream of mushroom soup, but sweeter.
Work was a mad rush, but the diner was home, more so than the house she rented, and the people here had become friends even in just a few weeks.
People called each other by their first names; the waitresses knew the regulars and their standing orders. Kate finally memorized enough so she wasn’t making too many mistakes.
“ We need more Portobello quiche on the counter,” she said as she sailed back to the kitchen with her new order after dropping off lunch for seven.
Jimmy, the new cook’s assistant, tall and skinny as a pole bean, flashed her a hopeful look as he peeled potatoes in a bucket by the backdoor. “You got time later? I have a couple of tests coming up next week.”
Jimmy was attending GED classes, and she helped him with his studies. He was a twenty-year-old drifter with a killer mohawk, trying to make something of himself at last. He reminded Kate of her sister, probably because he was the same age as Emma. He talked about the same bands Emma always raved about, the same kinds of movies.
Kate thought about the talk she was supposed to have with Murphy Dolan. They hadn’t set an exact time. “ I can stay an extra hour. If Eileen is still busy in the office, we can just walk over to the library.”
She picked up three plates of burgers and fries with the special sautéed mushroom sauce that was the diner’s specialty.
“ You da best,” Jimmy called after her as she walked through the swinging doors with the tray.
She nearly collided with Delia, the other new waitress, a buxom brunette in her early thirties. She had a Betty Boop kind of vibe going, and she played off that with her hairstyle and clothes, which brought in pretty good tips from the male customers.
Kate flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“ You’re fine. I saved the last slice of chocolate mousse pie under the counter.” Delia winked at her as she stepped aside.
The two of them stuck together, Delia especially eager to make
Murphy Dolan, the landlord, had returned unexpectedly and was staying with Kate. Did she know him from her life before? None of the research saved on the laptop sitting on a chair next to the tub pointed that way. This was her first time in Pennsylvania, and Dolan had never lived anyplace else.
Dolan was a cop and a soldier. He had skills, but they shouldn’t be a threat. There were skilled men, and then there were assassins. They were hardly in the same category.
Still, another person in the house could mean complications.
He splashed in the water as he shifted to stretch his legs. He closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him in a haze of well-being. He had time.
Kate was a job he’d chosen, personal, without deadlines, without restrictions, without a client who would change his mind half a dozen times and try to micromanage him. He could afford to take his time with Kate Bridges. Katherine Concord now.
Becoming her friend hadn’t been difficult. Yes, she was vigilant, but she was also lonely. He’d chosen the perfect disguise, the perfect persona to sneak past her defenses.
He’d see her today. He’d ask her about Dolan then. And she would talk to him because she trusted him.
He liked this new game, to have the leisure for something like this. He enjoyed being an assassin on holiday.
* * *
“Have a great day!” Kate called after a departing customer, then winced as pain shot up her elbow, her arm overloaded with the heavy tray.
Work was a blur. All those people who wrote cheerfully quaint books and movies about the slow pace of small town life never worked in a small town diner.
The Main Street Diner was a well-known fixture of Broslin, serving home-style meals and coffee since before the township had been incorporated. Since the town was famous for growing mushrooms, they put mushrooms in nearly everything, including dessert. Eileen, the owner, was known for her mushroom ice cream, which tasted a little like cream of mushroom soup, but sweeter.
Work was a mad rush, but the diner was home, more so than the house she rented, and the people here had become friends even in just a few weeks.
People called each other by their first names; the waitresses knew the regulars and their standing orders. Kate finally memorized enough so she wasn’t making too many mistakes.
“ We need more Portobello quiche on the counter,” she said as she sailed back to the kitchen with her new order after dropping off lunch for seven.
Jimmy, the new cook’s assistant, tall and skinny as a pole bean, flashed her a hopeful look as he peeled potatoes in a bucket by the backdoor. “You got time later? I have a couple of tests coming up next week.”
Jimmy was attending GED classes, and she helped him with his studies. He was a twenty-year-old drifter with a killer mohawk, trying to make something of himself at last. He reminded Kate of her sister, probably because he was the same age as Emma. He talked about the same bands Emma always raved about, the same kinds of movies.
Kate thought about the talk she was supposed to have with Murphy Dolan. They hadn’t set an exact time. “ I can stay an extra hour. If Eileen is still busy in the office, we can just walk over to the library.”
She picked up three plates of burgers and fries with the special sautéed mushroom sauce that was the diner’s specialty.
“ You da best,” Jimmy called after her as she walked through the swinging doors with the tray.
She nearly collided with Delia, the other new waitress, a buxom brunette in her early thirties. She had a Betty Boop kind of vibe going, and she played off that with her hairstyle and clothes, which brought in pretty good tips from the male customers.
Kate flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“ You’re fine. I saved the last slice of chocolate mousse pie under the counter.” Delia winked at her as she stepped aside.
The two of them stuck together, Delia especially eager to make
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