I have a special way of working. No guns. Don’t like the goddam things, and I like the kin d of people who use ‘em even less. Noisy, messy. Easy to trace, too. I have a better way. Cleaner. Easier.
She won’t be around much longer, pal, Ren’s father had told him earnestly. His Aunt Joan was dying. Ren and his brother Bobby shared a room at the old hotel, his mother, father and little sister Elsie in the adjoining... Continue Reading →
benjamin j kirby 