“What’s it like there?”
“Green.” Stone waved a hand, dismissing Vermont. “New Orleans is my home now. This place gets in your blood.”
“I guess so. It’s always been in mine.”
“A native son, right, I could tell by your accent. You sound like you’re from Brooklyn, so I knew you must have been born and raised in New Orleans.”
They laughed together, and G-man shook Stone’s hand again. He seemed like a good guy. Why couldn’t Rickey have found a doctor like this one rather than that oily creep Lamotte?
Back in the kitchen, a sense of gloom and foreboding came over G-man as he broke down his station. The only good thing about being in the weeds was the way it wiped all your other troubles right out of your head. Calmer now, he began to brood about the fight with Rickey. Had he overreacted? Ev
