Chapter 25

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Some places I’ve discovered look like trouble, no matter how benign they want to appear. Far as I was concerned, Tommy Thompson’s Genuine Roadhouse could win a prize for most innocuous thing on the block. The building dominated the middle of Main Street, a fixture since his grandfather established it as the only fine dining eatery in Stone Acres. The building cast a baleful glare like an infamous gunfighter spoiling for a victim.

I suspected nobody would eat there if any other choices were available on Main Street. Oddly, none were. In the Old Town business district, Tommy’s was the only game. You had to go to the new mall or the few tiny strip malls out of town or even up into the foothills to find somewhere else to eat. My Silver Star might turn out to be the David to its Goliath.