The diner was located on a strip mall, just a few blocks away from the heart of the financial district in Downtown LA. Despite it being daytime, the inside was lit by the glow of neon and the sequence of lights from a large jukebox. All the booths and tables were taken, which wasn’t really surprising because the food was good and inexpensive, and the coffee much better than that served at many of the chain coffee shops found all around the city. Yes, Donny’s was constantly busy, and lunchtimes were the rush hour of the rush hour. As a table for two vacated, Alison Atkins, the oldest of the four waitresses working the floor that afternoon, sprayed its surface with some disinfectant soap, wiped it clean with the cloth that she kept hanging from her work apron and signaled Rita at the door to let her know that she could seat two new customers. Rita immediately sent the couple that had been waiting for the past ten minutes in Alison’s direction. As the couple walked past table seven, the second table to the right from the front door, they paid little attention to the man who was sitting alone at it.
