Motor Mouth

just wanted to tell you.”
    “We need to talk,” Hooker said to me. “Let’s take a break here and find a diner. I didn’t get a chance to eat at Felicia’s house. And after the diner, I need to go shopping. You took your bag with you, but I’ve just got the clothes on my back. I thought I’d be home by now.”
    I pulled my gloves off and peeled myself out of the jumpsuit. Hooker snapped the leash on Beans and we locked up and loaded ourselves into the SUV. It was a couple blocks to a bunch of coffee houses and small restaurants on Calle Ocho. Hooker chose a restaurant that advertised breakfast and had a shaded parking lot attached. We cracked the window for Beans and told him to hang tight and promised to bring him a muffin.
    It was a medium-size restaurant with booths against the wall and tables in the middle of the floor. No breakfast bar. Lots of signed photographs on the wall of people I didn’t recognize. Most of the booths were filled. The tables were empty. Hooker and I slid into one of the two empty booths, and Hooker studied the menu.
    “Do you think the fact that Oscar was shot while naked and flying his colors would suggest angry husband?” I asked Hooker.
    “It’s possible. What I don’t get is the shrink-wrap, hide him in the hauler, and ship him to Mexico thing. Wouldn’t it have been easier and safer to dump him in the ocean? Or turn him over to an undertaker for transport? Why would someone want to smuggle him across the border?”
    The waitress brought coffee and gave Hooker the once-over. Even if you didn’t recognize Hooker, he was worth a second look. Hooker ordered eggs, sausage, a short stack of pancakes with extra syrup, home fries, a blueberry muffin for Beans, and juice. I stayed with my coffee. I figured I wasn’t going to look great in prison clothes. Best not to compound it by getting fat.
    Hooker had his cell phone in his hand. “I have a friend who works for Huevo. He should be at the shop by now. I want to see what the guys know.”
    Five minutes later, Hooker disconnected and the waitress showed up with his food. She gave him extra syrup, a complimentary second muffin, more juice, and she topped off his coffee.
    “I’d like more coffee,” I said.
    “Sure,” she said. “Let me get a fresh pot.” And she left.
    I looked over at Hooker. “She’s not coming back.”
    “Darlin’, you’ve gotta have more faith in people. Of course she’ll come back.”
    “Yeah, she’ll come back when
your
coffee cup is empty.”
    Hooker dug into his eggs. “Butch says everyone’s in shock over Oscar Huevo. He said a lot of people weren’t all that surprised to hear Huevo was shot, but everyone’s having a cow over the shrink-wrap and the biting thing. Butch said half the garage thinks it’s the work of a werewolf, and the other half thinks it’s a contract hit. And the half that thinks it’s a hit thinks it was bought by Huevo’s wife. Apparently Huevo was getting ready to trade up, and Mrs. Huevo was mucho unhappy with Mr. Huevo.”
    I looked into my coffee cup. Empty. I looked for our waitress. Nowhere to be seen.
    “Anything about the hauler?” I asked Hooker.
    “No. Apparently word hasn’t gotten out that the hauler’s missing.”
    I saw the waitress appear on the other side of the room but couldn’t catch her attention.
    “NASCAR has to know,” I said to Hooker. “They track those haulers. They’d know when it went off their screen.”
    Hooker shrugged. “Season’s over. Maybe they weren’t paying attention. Or maybe the driver called in and said the GPS was broken so NASCAR wouldn’t get involved.”
    I clanked my teaspoon on my coffee cup and waved my hand at the waitress, but she had her back to me and didn’t turn around.
    “Darlin’, that’s just so sad,” Hooker said, trading coffee cups with me.
    I took a sip of coffee. “There are some worried people out there. They’re scrambling to find the hauler, and they’re going to want to find the idiots who stole it because those idiots know Huevo was stuffed into the locker.”
    “Good thing we’re the only ones who know we’re the idiots,” Hooker said.
    The waitress stopped at our table and filled Hooker’s empty cup. “Anything else, sweetheart?” she asked Hooker. “Everything okay with your breakfast?”
    “Everything’s great,” Hooker said. “Thanks.”
    She turned and sashayed off, and I gave Hooker a raised eyebrow.
    “Sometimes it’s good to be me,” Hooker said,