I left hurriedly and strode hastily across the campus. How could I have overlooked such an obvious factor? Lois was sure to have seen the man in the back booth the night before. At the least she would have brought him his coffee. Even if he was a stranger to her, she would be able to describe him to me. And perhaps he wasn't a stranger. Maybe he came in often.
The little restaurant was jammed with students. I pushed my way to the end of the counter. Lois wasn't in sight. I waited until Harry, the sweating, somewhat greasy-faced owner of the Dugout, came near me.
"Can I talk to you a minute, Harry?"
He glanced at me, recognized me as a steady customer, and probably shrewdly placed me for what I was, a not very important young teacher.
"Can't it wait? I'm busy as hell."
He hurried back up the aisle without waiting for an answer. Harry did some of the cooking, but during the rush hours he helped out on tables or behind the counter while the regular cook took care of the orders.
In a moment he was back, flopping open an order pad. "What'll it be?"
"Hamburger and coffee," I said. "Where's Lois?"
His eyes went flat and cold. "She doesn't come on until later. Why?"
"I wanted to talk to her. What time does she get here?"