That woman sucks cock like a freakin’ Shop-Vac!” I revealed. “So, are you saying that you didn’t murder Robert Morgan? XXX You were fucking the murder victim’s widow!” he exclaimed. Is there any chance you are mistaken, or attempting some sort of cruel joke?”
“You want to hear her mention my name, Cook? Cook motioned for one of his damned dough boys to keep an eye on me as he went outside to maintain phone privacy. I wasn’t sure why the cops were anxious to search my home, but I was pretty certain they wouldn’t find anything very damning, with the possible exception those fucking missing tags the kids tore off their mattresses fifteen years ago.
