Mystery Writers Of America Presents The Prosecution Rests - Plot & Excerpts
J. ROZAN It had been a hell of a long time since they’d held night court here. For sure, Murph reflected as he entered the robing room, that was a good sign. It meant things were under control, the crazy times past. And good riddance. Those years had been tough, gangs duking it out block by block here in town, meth labs at the end of every country road, the entire county awash in a chaos of drugs and guns. That rats’ nest took some serious cleaning, some tough talk, and tougher action. But they’d straightened it out. For a while now they’d been living in what Rossi called a Golden Age, an Era of Order and Peace. Of course, Rossi couldn’t drink coffee without calling it the Elixir of Life, so his characterizations were suspect. Still, no one could deny things were better now. Nor could anyone deny that he, Murph, had had a lot to do with it. He was in charge here, and he’d made that clear as often and as forcefully as he’d had to.
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