|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was approaching two A.M. by the time we reassembled in the front of Palmer's Market next to the checkout stands. Old man Palmer had balked at Jake's request at first but had finally relented. The acerbic old man had gone home in disgust, sternly admonishing Madden that he and he alone was responsible in case anything was missing. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Jake walked wearily over to one of the store's large display coolers, took out a Moosehead, opened it and gulped down several swallows. With a bit of a flourish, he smacked his lips, wiped them off with his shirt sleeve and hefted his bulk up on one of the checkout counters. Somewhere |
|
|
|
|
|