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Aug. 3rd, 2011

Detective Marchese walked into Steve's Diner, on Broadway near Fort Tryon Park, and shook his head. Hispters ... the place was filling up with hipsters. Considering the location, he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was rarely in the restaurant this late and he was used to seeing the place wall-to-wall with business suits and and the occasional uniform. Now, though, it was all guys in skinny jeans and turtlenecks and girls who were either completely enamored of glitter, tattoos or vast quantities of makeup. He caught a few odd glances over laptops and notebooks and textbooks, but just ignored them and settled into a corner booth with a view of the street.

"Heya, Mina," he said to the waitress, "any of that meatloaf left, or did it all evaporate at lunchtime?"

"Think we got a plate for ya," Mina said, and cracked her gum. "You want the salad?"

"Nah, I'll pass on the rabbit food. I'll take a ginger ale and a coffee, though."

"Right away," the waitress said, and hurried off.

Vito took out his cell phone and set it on the table, watching people walk past on the sidewalk. It was almost sunset and the foot traffic was mostly heading downtown.

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vito_the_mook

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