The one from Romero, head of R&D, also had a photo on the front, but rather than making me want to tear it into pieces, as my family’s card had, this one just made me grin. The photo was of his son, Nips, sitting on Santa’s lap. The kid had a big smile on his face and a death grip on Santa’s beard. Inside, Romero had scribbled, Looking forward to a New Year filled with Big Macs, and I’d known his wife, who insisted he watch his cholesterol, hadn’t seen it.
And maybe I’d give him the issues of Playboy as they came in.
There was one from Smitty, the pathologist, which was surprisingly secular, and one in French from Max Futé, the little doctor who’d kept Browne alive and protected Quinn as much as he could when they’d all been involuntary guests of Prinzip.
Granger’s had me laughing until
