Probably looking for a good place to crap. The way his week was going, he was surprised Patsy Clark hadn’t organized a whole flock to circle overhead and drop missiles like B52 bombers on a raid. Giving his exquisitely clean Beamer a final look, he tromped toward the News building.Only published Wednesdays and Saturdays, the Daisy Creek News was a small operation, not big enough for a separate building. Instead, they inhabited an old factory a block off the courthouse square. The front was occupied by a diner, the kind of place where coffee was served in thick china cups with a saucer, the tables were chrome with scarred Formica tops, and biscuits with white gravy was the special of the day.Will wound his way up the metal staircase. A twenty-something with a gigantic coffee stain on her blouse gave him a tired smile when he stepped through the door.Dabbing at her shirt with a shredded paper napkin, she said, “You Will Barnes? Richard told me to wait on you. Go on in.”With the unsettling feeling he should apologize for something, he quickly stepped past her and into the office.Richard looked up from an oak desk yellowed with age.
