Five Days Later
I was never comfortable in a suit since it’s not easy finding one that fits all that well when you’re built like a fireplug. But I couldn’t very well show up at Wendy Healy’s funeral in my boxer shorts. Now that everything has finally calmed down, I can relax a bit on the houseboat in the sun, maybe even drop a line in the steady current, and if I’m lucky, nail a late season Striper with one of the half a dozen fly rods I have hanging from the houseboat ceiling. Hey, you never know.
The newspapers have piled up, and basically, all I have to do is glance at the headlines to catch up on the local news. Insurance Fraud Investigator Doubles as Serial Killer . . . Mortician Murderer Force Fed Wife . . . Mortician Murderer Raked in Thousands Per Week in False Unemployment Insu
