Chapter 13
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER I’m back in Albany, inside my
first-floor riverside loft. Since it’s going on five in the afternoon and I’m
still shaking from coke withdrawal, and from having been assaulted by two
rednecks and their pickup, I decide to c***k a beer. Maybe it’ll help calm me
down. I’ve been drinking all day, so I’ll make it my last before meeting up
with writing prof Gregor Oatczuk. Moonlight the Optimist.
Setting the cold beer down on the butcher-block counter, I
try to make some sense out of this case. It was only this morning that I was
officially hired to find Roger Walls, but instead of having spent the day on
his trail, no matter how vague a trail is it, I’ve spent my time uncovering
evidence that tells me my client, the fallen uber-literary agent, Suza
