Free In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel by M. R. Sellars Page B

while adding, “Fresh. Just made it.”
    “Wonderful,” Constance replied.
    The woman returned the pot to her other hand,
once again hooking the orange and brown handles together in a death
grip. Reaching into her apron pocket she pulled out a handful of
creamers and put them on the table.
    “Thanks.”
    The waitress looked her over and with a
genuine brightness in her voice asked, “Visiting Hannibal
today?”
    Constance gave her head a quick shake. “Just
passing through, I’m afraid.”
    “Too bad, we have a lot to see. And some
wonderful little shops too. Great for last minute gift
shopping.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    “Where’re you heading?”
    “North.”
    The waitress continued, undaunted by the
vague answer. “Visiting family for the holidays?”
    “Business, actually…”
    “This close to Christmas? That’s a shame.
Folks should be with family this time of year. Or, a pretty young
lady like you, maybe with someone special?”
    Constance smiled and shrugged but didn’t
offer any information. Apparently her naked ring finger was doing
all the talking for her. In any case, she was ready to bring the
conversation to a close before it became any more invasive than it
already had. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the friendly openness of
small towns, so the woman’s queries didn’t really offend her.
However, she also wasn’t accustomed to the culture either. In Saint
Louis, where she lived, you were cordial to others; however, if you
were too friendly, even out in the suburbs, people had a tendency
to think something was either wrong with you or that you had an
ulterior motive, nefarious or otherwise. Unfortunately, the vast
majority of the time they were correct.
    Of course, under the circumstances this
exchange was probably good practice. The town where she was heading
was even smaller than Hannibal, so she might as well be prepared
for random Q and A from the locals there too. Still, she wasn’t
ready to dive in headfirst. Not until she absolutely had to, and
definitely not this early in the morning.
    Fortunately, the waitress shifted the focus
of her interrogation without any other prompting. “All righty then,
hon, have you decided what you’d like, or do you need another
minute or two?”
    Constance smiled inwardly. Now they were back
on track. She nodded and said, “The Becky’s Breakfast, I
think.”
    “How did you want those eggs?”
    “Scrambled.”
    “Bacon or sausage?”
    “Do you have turkey bacon?”
    “Sure do. White or wheat?”
    “Wheat, please.”
    “Okay, I’ll have that out in just a few.” The
woman in pink flashed a smile and turned to head back toward the
counter.
    “Oh,” Constance called after her. “Do you
have any grapefruit juice?”
    “Not sure this morning, sugar. I’ll have to
check on that for you,” the waitress answered. “If we have some do
you want a large or a small?”
    “Just a small. Thank you.”
    Once the woman disappeared through the
kitchen doors behind the counter, Constance turned her attention
toward the TV. The morning news had given way to a kitschy
commercial for a local car dealership. Oh well, she could tune in
the news channel on her satellite radio once she was back on the
road. Besides, right now she still had some reading to catch up
on.
    She took a moment to stretch. Two hours in
the driver’s seat hadn’t done her any favors, given that the
apparent urgency of this trip had caused her to miss her morning
run, not to mention that she was operating on less than four hours
sleep. She wasn’t a big fan of last minute assignments like this,
but you went where your SSA told you to go. The mobility agreement
was all part of the job, no matter the division where you were
assigned, but most especially if you were a special agent in the
field. Of course, in this instance she wasn’t even sure her SSA
knew what was happening just yet. These orders had come from the
SAC himself, and even he had implied that they originated from
higher