For the rest of the day, Brian was in a funk. Anyone else would have left him, but Jim stayed lively and regularly changed the records on the turnstile, sometimes doing a solo dance in the kitchen. Mostly Brian did all the cooking, but Jim was able to help with some things. When he had nothing to do, he read a police book. They didn’t talk about Robby.
Dad’s rig pulled up in front. The engine went off, the brakes hissed, and Dad dragged himself in.
“Dad!”
“Hard day, son.” He looked at Jim. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Gee, Mr. Truttle, you look like crap? You’re all dirty and greasy.”
He gave a twisted smile. “Thanks for the encouragement. Come here, let me give you a hug.” He gave a quick look at his filthy clothes and smirked.
Jim grinned. “You’re going to smother me to death, huh?”
“Yup. C
