CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Clarence sat at his desk. He had talked the county clerk out of a blown-up map of Osceola and taped it to his wall on top of the framed documents. A little obvious, but he had to see what he owned.
Shirley was the clerk assistant’s name. She had run back and forth between him at the front counter and the logbook in the back room, when finally she brought it all out front so they could work together. She’d cleared a desk off and pulled up a chair for him. “Maybe this isn’t legal, but it’s more convenient than me running back and forth.”
Three hours. During that time, he’d heard all about her kids, her grandkids, her dogs and cat. Why her husband never fixed the toilet—he had been traumatized as a child when his older brother flushed their pet mouse down the toilet. Im
