Chapter Thirteen
“I got lucky...”
“Spin told the detectives it was some landlubber. That’s the word he used. Landlubber.”
Boone smirked over his coffee. They were at Pepe’s on Caroline Street, down near the Turtle Kraal. Willis looked at him.
“Landlubber? Who says that?”
“Besides Holloway, you mean?”
Teeter had on his cop suit, tailored and crisp. Sig .45 on his hip. Very businesslike. With that open, mid-western face, he looked like a guy you could trust. And he was, Willis had decided. He liked him. They were sitting across a round table from each other, breakfast plates pushed to one side.
“He say anything else?”
Boone sighed. “Said it was a city guy. Had on street shoes.”
“Noticed that, did he? While he was getting his ass kicked, too.” Willis chuckled. “Anyone thinks Spin’s a
