I Am Syd: Stone

What is ? (Private eye, disgraced chef, space smuggler?)

The neon sign above the diner flickered, casting a rhythmic violet bruise across my knuckles. I stared at the coffee—black, lukewarm, and bitter enough to peel paint. I am Syd Stone

"I’m not late, Miller," I said, my voice sounding like gravel under a boot. "I’m exactly where I planned to be. You’re just early because you’re nervous." What is

"You’re late, Syd," the man across from me whispered. He didn’t look up from his napkin, which he was shredding into tiny, precise confetti. What is ? (Private eye