The Art Festival crowd, nicely tucked in bed at this hour, was pretty tame. So far, the biggest news this week came out of one of his fellow officers arresting two septuagenarians for smoking pot. Rumor had it the administrative judge could barely keep a straight face during the proceedings and released the gomers on their own recognizance. Now that would have made a nice human interest piece for the Summerville Gazette, but he doubted it would ever surface. The pristine image of Summerville had to be maintained, at all costs. Web sipped his third coffee of the night and tried to think about what he had to do the next day. Sleep. Shower. Clean the house. Pick up some food and wine. Visit Mom. Go back to work on the graveyard shift. He groaned. He had to do something, change something or he’d turn into a lush like his Dad—or worse. He’d almost gotten married once, until his footloose bride-to-be realized he would never abandon his mother. She took off with a long-distance truck driver and left a note saying she was going to be “Queen of the Road.”
