Chapter FourteenIt would have satisfied Dinah Rowan just to sit beside Roosevelt Sherman in regal silence as they drove up Main Street. If she spotted a few friends to wave at from his Mercedes SUV, she’d reach the Pig a happy woman. But—frosting on her cake!—Rosey wanted to talk.
“This fella Pope, what do you think? He slipped on the rocks, knocked himself out?”
“Could be. Kinda hope so. Better he slipped than somebody pushed him.” Was that Berry and Joe Morton? She waved just in case. “Then again, kinda hope not. If Leo gets hit with a lawsuit, we can kiss off the Back End.”
“Does he leave a family?”
“No wife, if that’s what you’re asking. Or kids. God forbid,” she added under her breath. “His mom, though, and a bunch of sisters and brothers.”
Fred Jones’ red convertible pulled out
