Mike paused on the sidewalk outside of the bar that was popular with the locals. It was located at the entrance to one of the marinas favored by the fishermen in the area. Old trawlers lined the docks. They were a stark contrast to the newer, more expensive pleasure crafts located at the city’s marina.
“Ross Galloway?” Mike asked an old man exiting the bar.
“Inside,” the man said.
“Don’t drive,” Mike warned when he smelled the beer on the old man’s breath.
“Can’t, truck broke down,” the man mumbled.
Mike started to groan. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning yet. The curse on his lips died when he saw an old woman in a red coat step around the corner. The old man perked up and wobbled towards her.
He listened as the woman lovingly chided the man before wrapping her arm around hi
