A few minutes later, I was sitting with George’s brother, Stanford, at a small folding table tucked away in the back. We were both enjoying scrumptious Caprese sandwiches wrapped in foil, while I told him that Ralph had semi-retired.
“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Stanford said. “Ralph doesn’t semi do anything.”
“So you’ve spoken with Ralph recently? Since the NFJL days, I mean.”
“He and George went a long time without seeing each other. Then maybe fifteen years ago, Ralph stopped in. He was doing the investigator thing, and I guess he’d heard about the bakery. That first time, it was a little tense. But I guess they said what needed to be said, because Ralph stopped by once in a while after that, when he was in the area. He was usually on a case, but once he had Diane and his
