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have known the man.
    Apparently it didn’t bother Stu. “Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-gun. So old Henry finally turned up.” After grabbing Mikey’s hand and shaking it, he held out his hand toward Chris. “You must be young Mikey’s father.”
    Chris took his hand and I saw his chest puff up a little. He could now answer in the affirmative and mean it, thanks to the adoption. “Yes, indeed, that’s my son.”
    “By the way, sir, they call me Ace.” Mikey’s chest seemed to swell just a little, too.
    I smiled at the men in my life and Stu turned to me, once again holding out his hand. “And you must be Mom.”
    I shook his hand. “That would be me.” Mimicking Mikey, I said, “They call me Pamela, and my husband is Chris. It’s nice to meet you.”
    “Jimmy, I mean Officer Stubbin, said you’d be willing to give us the lowdown on your uncle.” Chris hooked his thumbs in the corners of his pockets.
    “Can we use your copy machine, Stu?” Jimmy asked.
    “Sure. You know where it is.”
    Jimmy pulled the will out of the pouch while he walked away. I knew they’d have a copy machine at the police station, but the copper knew Chris wasn’t going to let the will out of his sight until he had a copy in hand.
    Chris glanced toward the front of the store and the street. “If you’re going to be here for a while, I thought we’d grab something to eat at the diner and then come back to jaw with you.”
    “If you don’t mind, I’ll join you.” Stu glanced at his watch. “It’s about time for me take a break from the store anyway. I’ll tell you the story while we eat.”
    “Works for me,” Chris said. “As soon as Jimmy brings me my copy, we’ll head on down to a diner I saw.”
    “Do you mind if I ask what he’s copying for you?” I could see Stu was curious and maybe had a feeling this had something to do with finding his uncle.
    “We found a will buried with your uncle. I’ll let you read it before you tell us the story.”
    “Fair enough.”
    It was a one page will and Jimmy hurried back to join us, handing a copy to Chris and a copy to Stu. I hadn’t thought about giving Stu a copy. It was a good idea.
    The older man read it through quickly, nodding his head as though it all made perfect sense to him. “We’ll talk about this over dinner, too.” His words didn’t sound ominous, but I figured he felt anything of Henry’s should be passed on to him. Morally, he was probably right, but legally the will could mean a lot to Mikey. I’d have to think this one over.
    Jimmy left us and headed for the police station. I could see a sign in front of the office across the street and down about a block.
    After Stu asked a woman named Adele to watch the store, the rest of us walked to the Burnt Bun. I hoped the name of the diner wasn’t foretelling what we could expect for dinner.
    We walked in and I glanced around. The smell of home cooking wafted through the place. There were several tables and all but one were occupied. The remaining table was by the window and hadn’t been cleaned off yet.
    “Essie, throw me a rag and I’ll get the table,” Stu said.
    Essie took him at his word and tossed him a rag. I took it out of his hands and cleaned the table, making sure I got every little crumb. “Thank you, ma’am,” Stu said.
    I smiled. “I’ve had lots of practice. We own a restaurant in Los Angeles.”
    Across the room I saw an older man cleaning a table that a couple had just vacated.
    We sat down , with Mikey taking the chair next to Stu. I watched my son’s face and realized for some reason he’d taken a liking to Stu.
    “What’s good?” Chris asked, picking up a menu.
    “Everything,” Stu replied. “This is the best home cooking you’ll find in five counties. My wife, Jean, would rather eat here than cook at home, but she’s out of town right now. I eat dinner here almost every night now. Essie waits tables and her husband cooks the food. They’ve got a short menu, but it