Casey skipped down the stairs to the first floor that held the CID office. He had a lightness in his heart. Standing outside the double doors to the hall like room, and gazing through the porthole window, he smoothed his forehead. He resisted the urge to twist the skin of his eye socket. Instead, he screwed up his resolve. He was about to step into the Lion’s Den where immigrants were only tolerated by the locals and Blacks and Micks were bottom of the list for acceptance. He never could get his head around this blatant prejudice. Arm out straight, he pushed a leaf of the door and stepped in, faux bravado disguising his jangling nerves. He had a job to do. He would not let his family down and, he could not do this on his own. He needed these people on his side.
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