"Okay," I said, "give me all the necessary information. Who is she?"

"She's right across the street," Burlew said. "She works in the coffee shop. Every morning I go in to get coffee and she always gets it just right. She always gives me the perfect amount of cream. And it's never too hot. Her name is Jet. That's what it says on her name tag. I don't know more than that. She's the one with the shiny black hair."

I looked at the coffee shop. It had big plate-glass windows in the front, making it possible to check out the action inside. There were three women working behind the counter and a bunch of customers lined up waiting for service. I shifted my attention back to Burlew and saw he was watching Jet, mesmerized by the sight of her.

I excused myself and swung across the street to the coffee shop. Jet was at the register, ringing up a customer. She was a tiny little thing with short, spiky black hair. She was dressed in a black T-shirt, a short black skirt, black tights, and black boots. She wore a wide black leather belt with silver studs, and she had a red rose tattooed on her arm.

She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties. No wedding band or engagement ring on her left hand.

I ordered a coffee. "It's for my cousin across the street," I said. "Maybe you know him… Larry Burlew."

"Sorry, no."

"He's a butcher. And he said you always give him perfect coffee."

"Omigod, are you talking about the big huge guy with the buzz cut? He comes in here every morning. He talks so soft I can hardly hear him, and then he goes across the street, and he stares in here all day. I'm sorry because he's your cousin and all, but he's kind of creepy."

"He's shy. And he stares in here because… he'd like more coffee, but he can't leave the shop."