“You almost gave me a heart attack, Jack! Never thought I'd see you again."
Sitting at a small table in the back room of Good Caesar's Garage, I've positioned my chair facing the door. Not that I think a saint like Caesar would try anything funny. But you can't be too careful in Port Town.
“When you stopped coming around my shop, stopped asking questions," says Caesar, “I think I am about to be shut down. But then, I heard of your arrest." Caesar's face stretches out into a stinking smile. “You were in prison all this time?"
“I never went to prison," I respond flatly. “The charges were dropped."
“You know what the news called you? Jack the Knife, the Six-Shooter—"
I hardly even realize I'm doing it. One moment, I'm sitting there, trying to keep my cool. The next, the table we're sitti
