Sublime

Presenting himself was a rapscallion of the most exuberate sort.

There’s a small crowd forming at the very center of the layered rugs and in the middle, of course, is Charlie Milford. Stella’s half brother. Party boy. Serial charmer. I don’t think there’s a good time that Charlie hasn’t organized, signed up for, or crashed without explanation.

Roy and the old couple, Harvey and Rita, were the only ones left. They brought Roy to New York when he was barely twenty-five and set him up running “errands” now and again for some heavy people in Brooklyn. As a rule, they didn’t trust him with anything too complicated, on account of they didn’t think Roy was all that bright. Outside of Albert, no

he threw me a bone, saying, “You heard of Titanic Thompson?” I had not. “Check him out. That guy got it.”

“Clyde Waggoner. I’m Martin’s father.” The man from Okeechobee was wearing a white rayon tie with a blue chambray work shirt, and khaki trousers. There was a thin nylon Sears windbreaker folded over his left arm.

“Robbery. They’ve had ’em for a few days. Two guys were cuffed together in the men’s John in Jordan Marsh, in the Omni store. They claimed they were cuffed up by some crazy cop who took their money.