“Assimilating that fact was surreal, like the time I’d caught Sylvia with the upholsterer. What I needed was a bottle of bourbon and time to think, two luxuries I didn’t have. I could probably avoid the cops for awhile longer, but they’d find me eventually. And when they did, I’d be a glob of chewing gum on the sole of the commissioner’s five-hundred-dollar Italian loafers. Sure, the hospital in Brownsville could verify that I’d been there three days earlier, but Mac had said that the Colonel di...sappeared before then. My alibi was a bout as airtight as cheese-cloth. If Mac’s information was current, I wasn’t just the prime suspect, I was the only suspect. And Commissioner Drysdale enjoyed an abnormally high conviction rate. He was the kind of cop who craved closure, even if he had to settle for busting the wrong guy. Unless I could prove that I’d hadn’t used a cigar cutter on the Colonel, odds were good that I’d find myself learning a new trade and making sixty-seven cents a day at Pelican Bay.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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