“It felt like he was always at a bakery, grabbing almond biscotti, cannoli, tiramisu, and napoleons. Jesus, how the hell did a seventy-eight-year-old lady eat sugar like this and not wind up with diabetes? He'd known crack addicts who didn't need a fix as bad as Grandma Lucia needed her dessert. It had only taken two days to clean away the blood and bodies, for the crime-scene tape to go up and come down again, and then business was back to normal. There was a different girl behind the counter a...nd she was fulfilling orders with swift efficiency. Dane glanced across the shop, hoping he wouldn't see JoJo Tormino sitting in the chair where he'd died. JoJo wasn't there but somebody else hung back in the seat, staring at Dane. Straw-yellow hair chopped at the sides and a little too long in front. A hee-haw smile full of thick square teeth. Wearing a jacket with specially made creases so that the hardware underneath wouldn't show. Sunglasses carefully folded and lying on the little table. Immediately Dane figured this had to be the fed who'd been nosing around.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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