" I said heading for the door. "I know."=========Mischief spun away from the computer and looked at me with large worried eyes. "I don't like this, Ja...e. That fucking thing doesn't exist." She snarled jabbing her finger at the photo. "Anywhere! I've sent it through every database I've got, and come up with nothing but the sale to President Algrande." So it does exist, but we've no idea where it came from or why Mrs. Maxwell wants it so badly... The more involved we get with this case the more. There was this regular who came in almost every night, alone. He looked like a successful business man, always wore his work suit, and had his briefcase with him. He was quite older than me, probably mid to late 30s. He would order a rhy and coke, watch the game on tv, then two hours later would leave a tip, and be on his way. Lately I had been noticing him looking at me. My job as a waitress demanded that I always wear a plaid skirt, and tight shirt. So, it was common for the men to check me. More

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