Not until Jerry had parked the car did they notice the dilapidated condition of the building. It stood perhaps fifty yards back from the main road, its rear porch fronting on the Kobalt.
“Strange how one is always running into the river,” Penny remarked absently. “It seems to twist itself over half the state.”
Jerry had not heard her words. He was gazing at the restaurant with disapproval.
“This place doesn’t look so good, Penny. If you say the word we’ll drive on.”
“Oh, I’d brave anything for a beef barbecue,” she laughed.
Through the screen door they caught a discouraging glimpse of the cafe’s interior—dingy walls, cigarette smoke, a group of rough looking men seated on stools at the counter. Upon the threshold Penny hesitated, losing courage.
“Let’s not go in,” Jerry grunted in an undertone. “They’ll probably serve cockroaches in the sandwiches.”
Penny half turned away from the door only to stop short. Her attention focused upon two men who were sitting at the far end of the cafe drinking coffee from heavy mugs. In the indistinct light she could not be absolutely sure, yet she was instantly convinced that the heavy-set fellow in shirt sleeves was the same boatman who had been seen near the Kippenberg estate.
To Jerry’s surprise, Penny resisted the tug of his arm as he sought to lead her toward the car.
“This place isn’t half bad,” she said. “Let’s try it and see what happens.”