want. If you want to arrest me after I eat, that’s up to you.”
Cape turned without waiting for a response. When he was almost ten feet away, he heard the man behind him curse, not quite under his breath.
Five minutes later Cape was looking over a menu when the man with the glasses walked into Delancey Street behind his partner.
The man in the lead was older. He was black, his hair shaved close and peppered gray at the temples. He was taller than Cape, maybe six-two, with broad shoulders under a tan blazer. Cape put him at one-ninety. His eyes were dark brown and his smile relaxed. He held out a hand as he slid into the booth across from Cape, a knowing look passing between them.
Cape shook his hand. “Cape Weathers,” he said. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“John Williams,” came the reply. “And this here’s-”
The younger man jumped in. “Special Agent Dickerson,” he said as he lowered himself into the booth. He didn’t offer to shake hands.
Cape glanced briefly at Dickerson but brought his eyes back to Williams.
“How come you guys are always
Williams shrugged. “Guess the bureau figures it might impress law-abiding taxpayers.”
“I’m definitely impressed,” replied Cape, glancing over at Dickerson.
Williams started to laugh but gracefully turned it into a cough. Turning to Dickerson, he reached into his pocket and passed over a handful of coins.
“I forgot to put money in the meter,” he said amiably, but something in his tone said he didn’t expect an argument. “Wouldn’t look right, two government agents getting a parking ticket on the taxpayer’s dime.”
The muscles in Dickerson’s jaw flexed, but he took the money and stalked out of the restaurant. Williams watched him leave, then turned back to Cape.
“Getting you in the car was Jimmy’s idea,” he said simply. “Jimmy, Special Agent Dickerson, just graduated law school. Hasn’t spent much time on the street yet.”
“So the bureau teamed him up with you.”
“Yeah,” said Williams, leaning back against the booth and sighing. “Something like that-so I’m letting him learn from his mistakes, one day at a time.”
“Must make for some long days,” said Cape.
Williams nodded. “He’s a smart kid, wants to do the right thing-we’ll see. The bureau goes for those young, gung-ho types, and Jimmy’s better than most. Long as no one gets hurt, I got the time.”
A waiter came up to the table and stood expectantly, pad and pen in hand. He had a worn, heavily creased face-as if he’d spent many long years someplace much less pleasant than this restaurant. His thickly muscled arms sported tattoos on both forearms.
“I’ll have two eggs, scrambled, with bacon and wheat toast,” said Cape. “And iced tea.”
Williams looked up at the waiter and nodded. “Same, but with rye toast. And coffee.” He glanced at the menu. “And some French toast for my friend-and coffee.”
The waiter nodded and collected the menus, then left for the kitchen.
Williams turned his gaze on Cape. “Iced tea?”
Cape shrugged. “I could use the caffeine, but I don’t drink coffee.”
“Why not?”
“I like the idea of coffee,” said Cape, “more than I like the coffee itself. When I was younger I’d try it every once in a while, see if it tasted any different than the last time. Finally gave up.”
“You shoulda tried it at an inflection point,” said Williams.
“What?”
“Inflection point,” repeated Williams. “That’s how addiction starts. You experience something at a time of personal change. You ask people when they started smoking, smoking pot, drinking coffee-you name it-the answer’s always when they changed schools, started dating, went to college…some shit like that. Me, I started drinking coffee when I was ten.”
“You had an inflection point?” asked Cape.
Williams nodded. “My Dad died,” he said simply. “That man sure loved his coffee. Day after he died, Mom put his cup down in front of me, right on the kitchen table. Didn’t say nothin’, just filled the cup. Guess it was her way of sayin’ I was the man of the house.”
Cape nodded but stayed quiet. Williams looked at him for a long minute before saying, “You know why I told you that story?”
Cape shook his head.
“Me neither,” replied Williams, shrugging.
“How long you been with the feds?” asked Cape.
“A long time, but not long enough to forget I was a beat cop first,” replied Williams. “I got recruited by the bureau when I was in my twenties.”
“That must have been flattering.”
Williams shrugged. “It was during one of their color drives.”
Cape arched an eyebrow. “Promoting and encouraging diversity?”
Williams smiled. “Something like that. For me, it meant a better paycheck, maybe a better class of criminal.”
“Is there such a thing?”
Williams shook his head. “Nah, a scumbag’s a scumbag, white collar or not.” He held Cape’s gaze for a minute before blinking, letting him know he was serious about his job. They were talking, but they weren’t friends.
Cape nodded.
“Anything else you want to know?” asked Williams. “’Cause, you see, I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
“I just figured you already know all that’s interesting about me.”
“No offense,” said Williams, “but you ain’t all that interesting. Used to be a reporter-supposedly a good one, whatever that means these days. Did some time overseas, right? Then came back and worked the local crime beat.”
Cape nodded.
“Got involved in an investigation into a missing girl, sister of one of your friends, found her before the cops did. Figured maybe you could do that for a living. Work standard cases-credit checks, skip tracing, insurance fraud, the usual. Still do some reporting, freelance, when you have to pay the rent. But mostly you find people, am I right?”
“When I can.”
“That’s it, in a nutshell,” said Williams. “Other than you got a funny name.”
“We can’t all be named John.”
Williams smiled. “Read it was short for
“Yup,” said Cape. “A castrated rooster. But I never really went by my given name.”
“Can’t say I blame you.”
Cape shrugged. “Mom sold capons every day. She worked as a butcher.”
“Who didn’t like men very much?”
“Not at the time,” said Cape. “She was in labor thirty-six hours.”
Williams, who had been shot twice in the line of duty, grimaced and squirmed in his seat. “Ugh. I couldn’t imagine.”
“I doubt she was in the right frame of mind to be naming anybody,” said Cape.
“You ever think of changing it?”
“Why bother?” asked Cape. “By the time you’re old enough, you’ve already taken all the shit. Plus, the short version’s not so bad.”
“Makes me think of Superman.”
“I wish,” said Cape. “So tell me, Agent Williams-if I’m not that interesting, why are you buying me
