He lives in Scarborough. He’s a small, slim man—no more than five foot five. Dark hair, dark eyes. Hair greying at the temples. Can’t be older than forty.
Pleasing coffee-coloured complexion. Mild fall weather, yet puts on a big winter parka with fur-lined hood for the walk to the diner. Expressive face. Speaks quickly, hands flitting about. No small talk. He launches forth.
