He was probably in his fifties, balding and with a slight limp. He did exhibit a cheery disposition though as he sing-songed, “Welcome to Dewey’s,...the hole-in-the-wall on Canyon Lake where you can get beer, burgers, groceries, fishing gear and not much else.” He stood beside the table – eyeballing Charlene’s mostly bare body - and asked, “Now what can I get for you?”Tommy asked, “Is it fair to assume that you’re Dewey?”“Nope,” replied the older man, “that was my father. I’m George.” His eyes. "Where are they?" I asked Jenny when I came down the stairs that led off of the lounge."Outside waiting, of course. John, unless they have a warrant or just-cause, the police can't enter a house unless the owner invites them in. This is your house so I made them wait until you are ready to receive them. It never hurts to show them who's running things, you know." I'm beginning to worry about you, Jenny. You haven't had some run-ins with the police, have you?" I asked her, smiling."Let's just. More

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