The Case of Casey Crais came roaring back, though, the moment the train pulled into the station, guiding its cars alongside the long platform. The stop was announced again and Jimmy grabbed his overnight bag—since he’d been told to prepare to stay—and detrained onto a lovely late summer’s day. Fall was just days away. He could smell the fresh fragrance in the air that the storm had awakened. The languid waters of the Hudson River lazed to his left as he headed down the stairs. A familiar black limo was idling, and as soon as Jimmy approached, Markson stepped out.
“Mr. Calloway will see you at the house,” he said.
Which translated to mean Jimmy had the rear seat to himself. He settled in and watched as they drove through a charming downtown area filled with rustic buildings and small cafe
