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Charlie reluctantly turned his attention to the menu and out of the corner of his eye caught the long shadow of an intruder spreading over the table. A tall, angular, somewhat disjointed looking man of advanced years was standing at a respectful distance from the table staring at them. Kristen had noticed him first. |
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"I think we've got company," she whispered over the rim of her glass. |
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Kristen was used to interruptions, used to people gawking at her in restaurants, whispering from behind upheld menus, seeing her picture in the tabloids and catching the sideways glances in elevators. But she sensed something different about this one. Charlie could see her draw back as he turned to confront the intruder. |
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"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked brusquely. |
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The man was old, much older than Charlie had at first realized. Yet despite his age, he had taken a surprisingly defiant posture. He held a decidedly outdated hat directly in front of him and, oblivious to the semitropical temperature and clear sky, he wore a tattered raincoat. |
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"You are Charles Everett Frazier?" The old man mouthed the words so that they came out sounding more like a pronouncement than a question, as though he was verifying some- |
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