The last time they saw the chef he was slipping his hooded sweatshirt on and 
hoisting that mysterious bag he always carried onto his burly shoulders. The shift had been long but good. Cheerful but exhausted goodnights were exchanged as he turned down the bartendresses offer of a cold beer. “Not tonight,” he’d said in an unusual tone of voice. “No, not tonight. Hasta mañana everyone.” Six days later no one had seen hide nor hair of him. Vanished into thin air. Not a clue as to where he’d gone or what happened to him…until, ten days after they’d last exchanged those late night pleasantries, his shoes showed up to work – without him.