Moretti called it a job. Jack called it Tuesday.
The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the dirt slicker. Jack Callahan knew this better than most. He had been watching Victor Chen's restaurant for three nights, sitting in his Chevrolet with the heater off, watching the steam rise from the kitchen vent like a prayer going unanswered. Victor Chen was forty-five years old. He had been running the Golden Dragon on...
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