Unbridled Evil Winter JenningsChapter 4
Bulldog Bannerman, fixer extraordinaire, came by my office. This time one of his three assistants, all 60-something ladies who were tougher than shoe leather, called to alert me. Bulldog, thick white hair cropped short, a sinewy body that still calls to mind the Golden Gloves fighter he had been in his teens, has an air of quiet competence. He gave me a small smile, “Favor.” “Of course.” I didn’t know him that well, not with 40 years difference in our ages. But we knew each other through...