Chapter 3
Friday Night
The Judge didn’t cook on Saturdays or Sundays—Don’t much like damn tourists anyway—so there was no urgent need to finish cleaning up The Puffin, but ten years of habit had Greg staying even after the others left. He liked making sure that everything was shipshape and tucked away.
He’d also enjoyed the chance to think about the night. He’d often received thanks and handshakes for his meals, but he’d never received a round of applause like that before.
He still didn’t know what to make of his father’s offer. His parents had set up a college fund that had seen him through the two years at CIA, plus the extra courses he’d crammed in during summers and weekends. The day he’d graduated the Judge had taken him aside and handed him a check for ten thousand dollars.
“Th
