That truth was about to change. I'd just come on my shift at Sancho's. "How you doing there mister Turner?" said the man who'd come up behind me. And... yes, I was using my real name; no reason not to. "Gil, Mister Misguez," I said. "You startled me." He laughed. "Sorry about that, Bruce. But, really, how are you doing?" "Good. No complaints," I said. "Mister Philips has been more than patient." He nodded, and handed me a card, an invitation. "Company party at my house, next Saturday. Chance. The investigator, seeing Doug’s smile, looked like he was going to have a stroke. He leaned over the table where Doug sat, handcuffed to a chair, and screamed. Spittle was flecking the table top and Doug’s shirt as the man ranted and raved until he ran out of breath.“I would like to invoke my right to counsel.” was all Doug would say, smiling at him again in a perverse desire to see if the man really would have a heart attack.Relief came from an unexpected source in the form of Special Agent. More

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