Chapter 45
BAR WAS ALREADY at his desk when Muriel arrived Friday morning. His presence in the office differed only slightly from the familiar figure of Fergus she’d grown so accustomed to. Both were large men, both smelled of shaving cream and diesel fuel, both used drug store reading glasses to view the computer screen. The most striking difference was the way one side of Bar’s glasses floated in space with no ear to support the frame and no eye to see through the lens.
“Worsham’s money is about gone,” Bar said.
“Are you looking at the bank statement?” Muriel asked.
“No. These are P&L projections. Any way you slice it, the P’s are pretty slim, the L’s are right high.”
“I had no idea you were so proficient with financial software.”
“Oh, it was mostly Sheltie Lou put this together. I
