Detective Muller startled the woman cleaning up behind the counter. She was a large, handsome woman. Muller shrugged off an unfamiliar feeling of desire. Mind on your work, old man. She had a kind face. Miller grit his teeth, and considered turning around, if he couldn't keep his mind on business he was no use here. A faint tinge of acrid fumes caught his nose, and dulled all thoughts of amore. He girded himself. "Ms. Washburn?"

Karen nodded. Her eyes darted across his uniform. The hackles on the back of Muller's neck prickled his shirt collar. He flashed his badge, and she relaxed. That's better, he thought, happy that his initial opinion of the woman still held up. He didn't usually judge people wrong.

"That's an unusual smell for a diner." His sinuses tickled at the pungent aroma, and he blocked a sneeze by pinching his nose. Muller moved closer to the counter. Karen took a step back. Detective Muller smiled at her, and took a seat. Karen relaxed again. She was jumpy. Warning bells rang in his head. Her skittishness was going to make this difficult. If she were evasive, it was going to be a long night. Muller felt the beginnings of a yawn. It had been a forty-eight hour day already. He was in no mood for cat and mouse games.

"It's the special," she said, motioning to the dry erase board above the kitchen transom.