Chapter 13: US Marshal Ken Sullivan
The Italian place was slam busy but since we weren’t in a hurry, Michael and I got a drink at the bar. The TV was showing a Chicago Cubs game.
“I’m only a so-so baseball fan. All those stats, like earned run average and fielding percentages, baffle the crap out of me,” I said.
“Statistics is easy.” Michael tipped his beer glass slightly in the direction of the TV.
“What the hell is easy about statistics?” I asked. “It was one of the most brutal courses I think I ever took in college.”
“Really? You’ve got to be kidding. For hard classes, it’s a toss-up between fluid mechanics and diffy-q.”
I think I stared at him. “You’re a cop. What the f**k did you major in?”
“Mechanical engineering.”
“And you graduated?” I jumped to the assumption he’d washed o
