On the outside, Hungry Al’s seemed to be a hard-scrabble produce stand. But behind that crumbling, graffiti-ridden facade was “HUNGRY!” a secret upscale restaurant open only to the elite. Hungry Al, a food-smuggling hustler, came to this nation broke. True to his roots, he spent part of every day overlooking his original, humble produce stand, dressed like a street person. Finnegan was not taken in by the ruse. Hungry Al had deep, deep connections in the Zona Rosa and beyond. “I’ve wrapped up that novel,” Finnegan said, “and I’d hoped your aunt Jennifer would take a look at it.” Al gave a non-committal grunt. The prostitute darted in and reached for an orange.