Twenty-Six Years Ago
Angelo turns, ‘professional’ smile firmly in place. “What can I get you, sir?” The smile fades as he sees the cop standing there...
Again...
“You know what I'm looking for; her. Your friend, Mitch. She was supposed to be in court. She’s not turned up. You seen her?”
“Nope.” Angelo opens a jar of peanuts, fills a few dishes, then reaches for a jar of olives.
The cop doesn’t move. “How about Frank Conners?”
Scoop in hand, olive dish half-filled, Angelo pauses. “Frank? What do you want Frank for?”
“So, you know him?”
“Course I know him. What's your problem with him?”
“He's wrapped up with her. She's wrapped up in the drug trade.”
“Frank’s in real estate. It's nonsense. I told you that before.”
The cop’s tone is lazy. “That's not what the evidence is telling us.
