"Hon, Jim Horton gets the promotion and I get screwed. Want to go home?"Marcy looked at her husband with contempt. "You go if you want. I'm staying. I...ll get a ride home with someone." She looked him up and down. "You aren't even able to get a promotion."Hank walked away from her, grabbed three cans of beer from the ice tub and found an out of the way place on the shipping dock to sit alone and brood. The next trip inside for more beer made his bad mood worse. Marcy stood face to face, talking. Also present was Jake, Dave, Liz, Steph and a half-dozen very determined looking men in windbreakers that looked suspiciously thick.“Mister McCoy...” I turned to look at who was talking and found myself looking down into the eyes of a very short guy. Not little person short, but five foot tall, if that, short.“Mister McCoy, I am Will Larson, the District Attorney. I don’t know what kind of screwups had you kept in there, but if it was malfeasance, I will find it. If nothing else, you can be. More

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