Winston Tabor sat in the alley behind the hardware store drumming his fists on the steering wheel of his car and sorting options. Such a simple task and it turns into a slapstick nightmare, he moaned aloud. Everything was going so well, he followed the guy from the club when he and the broad went to the bar and then from there back to the club. When he saw him talking to the cops he knew what he had in mind was the right thing.

The plan had been to get them both together but he took the broad home first; that would just mean more work later. He pounded the wheel again and cursed Parker, without knowing his name, for barging into the office and then not letting him run him over. By now the cops would have a description of his car and enough of himself to screw everything up.

The purr of his phone broke the moment and he stared at the instrument on his dashboard. It would be Mick or worse, Mick's boss. He sat and stared as the purring continued. Why hadn't he shut the damn thing off. He punched the button and coughed an answer.

"Tabor! Jesus what the hell did you do? Lester has been up my ass with an auger. I recommended you."

"I have an excuse but you guys won't listen and what's more you don't care so give me the bad news and let's stop farting around."

"The bad news, Tabor, is Lester wants you at his place stat."

Winston closed his eyes and his head dropped to his chest. Principal's office, he muttered.

"What? What was that?"

"I said, as you wish. I'll have to dump my car first so it will be a while."

"Get it done and get over here. Jesus what I have to suffer 'cause of incompetents like you." The phone went dead.

"Incompetent, eh? Asshole."

Winston started the car and cruised slowly out of the alley and across town to the port area. There were plenty of deserted yards and lots to hide the car. He'd hike back to civilization and grab a taxi to Lester's place.

******

Leo Holt finished his paperwork and filed the case number for the murder of Earl Barkluster then grabbed his coat and left the station to grab a very late dinner. He walked the four long blocks to his favourite haunt, leaving the car at the station for his partner just in case and smiled at the weary greeting from Madge, the owner cashier.

"Can't you ever come at a decent hour, Holt?"

"Then I would never get to see you, Madge dear." He gave her a wicked smile and slid into a booth as the waitress set a mug of coffee in front of him.

"The usual?"

"No, Patty, today I think I'll have a steak, some onions and a nice crisp salad with your famous house dressing."

"Are you joking or what?"

"No, I'm serious. Caught a new case and I haven't eaten all day so this is my three meals in one. Oh, and a big slice of that banana cream pie, please."

Patty turned and raised her eyebrows at Madge who just raised her own back and shrugged.

"How do you want the steak?"

"Wounded." He smiled again and sipped his coffee as she turned away, calling the unusual order to the kitchen. The coffee was good and he held the mug in both hands and stared out the window at the light display of street lamps and flashing cars. Parker Nevens crossed his mind and he wondered if the young man had stumbled into something that really had placed him in danger.

He never saw an actual murder but if what he said was true, it came pretty close to the coroner's description and then the attempt to run him down. Holt sipped some more coffee and looked up as the diner door opened admitting a couple with a small girl in tow.

They chose a booth well away from Holt and he felt sorry that they might have considered him some kind of threat. The little girl stared at him and he winked, causing her to dive in behind her mother's back. Holt sipped his coffee and let his thoughts run to eating.

"One wounded steak with onions." Patty set the plate in front of him and the smell of fried onions pleasantly assailed his nostrils making him drool, literally. "Salad is coming; you want a refill?"

He held out the mug and thanked her then put it down and examined his steak with anticipation.

******

The meal was excellent and he leaned back in the booth wanting to burp but stifling it for the benefit of the other family. Patty cleaned away the empty plates and poured him another coffee, shaking her head and lifting a chin toward his stomach.

"I know, I know. But you'll still love me, Patty." She snorted and walked away chuckling.

Holt took out his phone and called the station checking to see if anything had come in on the skimpy license plate clue. The Detective on duty read off the dozens of possibilities the computer had found, complaining that he still had to do another search matching colours found on the woman's grocery cart.

"Call me with anything," Holt said and put the phone on the table. The traffic had thinned considerably and only the occasional transport disturbed the darkness outside his window. Parker niggled at his mind. According to his statement he stumbled into the office where some guy was choking Earl with own tie. Instead of calling for help Earl gets mad and tells him to get out. Nevens and the other guy exchange looks and Nevens splits. Why would the killer still murder Earl knowing he'd been seen?

He focused on his reflection in the glass and absently turned his mug in tiny circles on the table. The phone purred and he opened it answering in a soft voice, glancing at the family across the aisle.

"A car patrol found a vehicle matching our skimpy description and they say there are scratches on the passenger front fender."

"And the license?"

"PTAD 567 and it's a black Honda Civic."

"Where?"

"Behind some empty buildings in the port area."

"Oh, and this patrol car just happened by?"

"You know what goes on, Leo. Don't get all rule book on them, they found your car regardless."

"Thanks." He closed his phone and finished his coffee.

Patty returned with his bill and asked about more coffee but Holt was feeling a little bloated and refused with a smile then hoisted himself from the booth and up to the register.

"How was it?" Madge asked with moderate curiosity.

"Actually it was very good, Madge. You can tell Henry you're going to give him a raise." He dropped some bills on the counter and turned away laughing at Madge's rude retort and left the diner. It had cooled off and he hesitated, his car was at the station only a few blocks away; if need be his partner could get something from the motor pool.

^^^^^^

The cab pulled away and Winston waited until it turned the corner before heading back toward Lester's office. A damp breeze had come up and he cursed having to spend so much time walking; his sinuses were acting up and he wasn't in the mood for what he knew would be a tirade from Mickey's boss.

Mickey Spataro was at the door the minute he rang the bell, his face a mélange of anger, smug superiority and fear. Mickey kissed Lester's ass morning 'til night and Tabor found him a whinging little weasel not to be trusted any further than from one of his beady eyes to the other.

"You are in so much shit, Tabor." Mickey closed the door and assumed an accusatory stance in the front hall.

"Spare me your upper management audition, Spat," he pronounced it like the action. "And move your skinny ass."

"You'll see, you'll see." Mickey spun on his heel and strutted down to Lester's home office.

Lester emerged from his tiny en suite washroom drying his hands. Plaid suspenders hung down like bag handles on either side of his hips and his face was a flushed, jowly pudding. He tossed the towel to Mickey who matched his boss's colour at Tabor's smirk then hurried it into the washroom.

"This better be good." Lester eased his bulk into the chair behind his desk and he fumbled a cigar out of the desktop humidor.

"It is what it is." Tabor related the entire timeline of events and finished with a shrug. "The car shot was bad luck. That dame, instead of going with the light, decided to blow her horn like crazy and my target dove out of the way."

"Bad luck? And how do you make that into good luck?" Smoke from the freshly lit cigar hid Lester's face.

"I know who he is. I know where he lives, or will shortly . . . as soon as I'm outta here." The last words tinged in sarcasm.

Lester leaned forward. "And what's your grand plan?"

"I remove the threat of a witness."

"He spoke to the cops already you moron. And the dame he was with surely knows as well. You going on a witness elimination program?"

Mickey snickered from his spot against the bathroom door. "Good one, boss."

Tabor shot him a foul look. "Nobody else saw me so it doesn't matter what the cops think they know; they won't have any proof."

Lester puffed heavily on his cigar and it looked like he was on fire. The voice that rasped out of the cloud was punctuated with ugly coughs but the message was clear; get it fixed and put to rest.

******

"What are you gonna do about the money Earl owed, boss?" Mickey asked after Tabor was ushered out.

"When this other business is settled I'm gonna look at Earl's associates and see what he was using it for; his club should have been bringing in enough to handle what he called betting losses." Lester produced another toxic cloud and stared malevolently at his cigar. "Where the hell did you get these things. Mickey?"

"A guy I know recommended a place."

"Well tell your guy if I see him I'll find another place for them." He smashed the remains out in the large ashtray on his desk, flipped open a desk pad and snatched up the phone.

"Grace? Lester. I need you to do something for me."