Dirk Towers set down his coffee cup and signaled the waiter.
At this time of night the motel dining room was almost deserted. Two elderly couples sat in the opposite corner having dessert. Everyone else had gone.
"More coffee, sir?" The young waiter said, rushing to the table, a steamy pot of coffee poised and ready to pour. His name tag said Chris, and he was so correct and efficient that he all but clicked his heels and bowed. "Yes, thank you," Dirk said. "And my check, please."
"Certainly, sir."
Dirk watched Chris pour with a steady hand. Nice hands. Perfect nails. They were as perfect as his light-brown hair and clear skin. The waiter had been looking. at Dirk ever since he walked...