It was a brisk morning, and Randolph Smith decided to go casual this morning; slacks, colored shirt, Rockport shoes, and a windbreaker. He securely tucked away his g*n, under his left arm, fully loaded. That was one of the days where the inspector loved his job. He was in the hotel lobby at eight. He saw the day clerk smiling at him, “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I’m waiting for Stan Mallory.”
“Just one moment,” said the clerk, “while I call Mr. Mallory.” Randolph went to a couch and sat. He grabbed a copy of the local newspaper. One of the stores already advertised Christmas trees, which redirected Randolph’s thinking about family matters to a new level; Christmas presents for the wife and the kids, vacation time, visit his daughter. Suddenly. his train of thought was interrupted, “Goo
