I didn't bother to remind him that we had already decided that the, 'I was only following orders' excuse wouldn't wash for the Nazis. "So what the hel... is it you think I can do for you?" I asked instead."Unlike you, I don't want to run around hitting tiny little banks every few months. I want to hit one then retire." he was looking hard at the floor when he spoke. He still wasn't sure how far he could push me."I already told you, I haven't hit any banks. Carlton, if I was opening bank cans. More like drunch, really" Marcia said, trying for alight tone. She gestured at the table like one of those high-heeled gameshow hostesses elegantly presenting a consolation prize.The cake came out perfectly, in spite of the extra wait time andmultiple re-heatings. A minor miracle, all considered. It was stillfluffy and crisp-edged.Phoebe, who was already texting someone on her cell phone, hardlybothered to look up."What is it, anyway?" she muttered."It's called a panakuchen." A panna whosit?". More

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