by Mary Edward
It’s his first time in the bistro and he’s not impressed. The Venetian Lagoon on the mural is cracked and faded, and Vesuvius is never going to erupt again on that grimy wall. The once-cheerful tablecloths have been washed a hundred times too often, and the menu wilts in his hand.
He’s surprised that Sam Deasey would choose this place for their meeting. Then he looks around at the empty tables and has his answer.