AZM07
DINER RECEIPT
RECEIPT NUMBER: AZM07
RECEIPT DATE: 9 22 19XX
MANAGER TITLE: TRUSTED ASSOCIATE
RECEIPT NOTES:
Well, that’s that, no? Mr. Min has been served and sent back to Ottawa where he belongs. An easy case, though it doesn’t quite sit right with me. Mostly because of those other lights, of course. As for Mr. Min himself, I’m glad he’s back somewhere with a diet more suited to his needs. And I must admit, I’m still basking in the pride of la dame correctly guessing Mr. Min’s true origins—though I suspect she already knew and was just playing coy for our benefit.
Oddly, since we wrapped up the job and returned to the Cafe near “Long Beach” or thereabouts, the reports of the lights in Death Valley have dropped off significantly. I can’t help but wonder why we saw those warning lights only while we were there. Part of me wants to think Mr. Min himself might somehow be connected to this international scheme—but that’s rather foolish, no? Mr. Min is just a simple customer with a simple mind. Not much of a schemer, aside from his mesmerizing light show.
Still… why did we see what we saw? Surely, it couldn’t have been mere coincidence. I suppose our Secret employee can look into it while we focus on finishing up the Cafe and Diner. But it doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t quite figure out why. Like la dame keeps saying, there’s an awful taste in my mouth. Bitter—worse than old coffee. Something sharp and metallic, almost like blood. It’s dry, scratchy… a personal warning sign, a hint that something’s off.
If only I were still on speaking terms with my former boss, eh? He’d know what’s wrong. He probably already knows everything about our current predicament—but he keeps his secrets better than I do. I suppose he must, but… ah, here I am, starting to spill secrets I swore I’d keep.