“Coffee. Stat,” Jim said the moment he was inside Alan’s apartment. It was going on nine-thirty and while he wasn’t ready to do any crying, he was tense.
“Go sit down. I started a pot right after you called,” Alan told him.
Jim did, after taking off his jacket, collapsing on the sofa, leaning his head back. Alan went into the kitchen, returning with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Jim then sat down beside him. “How bad was it?”
“Well…the first half hour was spent with everyone dissecting what had happened and trying to come to terms with it. Some people didn’t believe Ken could have killed Neil and thought Bob was lying. Others, of course, said they suspected something was going on with him, they just didn’t know what. I came firmly down in the ‘I’m not talking’ camp.’” Jim smiled
