prised a photograph from between her breasts, I warned, “I only find them—what you do after that is your business. And you are…?”
Murphys were old money, one of the first families here in ‘Frisco, among those who came west in search of gold. Tiffany the photograph on the desk between us like a blackjack dealer turning cards. A young man smiled up at me—I recognized those dark eyes and roguish curls. “This is Tommy,” Tiffany said.
boy is twenty-three. And we didn’t lose him. Five years ago, we employed a gardener named Geoffrey . He was a rough man, coarse, unrefined. Common, if you get my drift.” I thought I did. Tiffany continued, “Tommy took to him immediately. I don’t know what he saw in that man. The amount we to keep that quiet! Father was livid.”
shrugged, a move that settl
