30
Asshole. I should have known better, I told myself as I drove back to the motel. I hadn’t gotten any more out of Moses without Ralph than I had with him. Except, of course, more suspicions and paranoia. I was so exhausted that my brain didn’t do its expected spin cycle around the events of the day, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next morning (i.e., a few hours later), I woke with an idea about our Mr. Moses. I took a shower first and made some coffee, to ensure a baseline amount of brain function. Beyond that, I’d have to rely on Selma to be kind.
It was eight a.m. in Tallahassee, but Selma Rafalowski was at her law office already. Maybe she’d never left it. She didn’t seem surprised to hear from me again.
“Morning, Sydney. Let me guess, it’s time for anoth
