Having the Chinese restaurant directly across the street in full view made his stomach worse. He was hoping it'd be open soon, so he could pick up some food and bring it back without anyone seeing him. Otherwise, time to start limping to a truck stop and catch a lift to Houston. Traffic on Franklin was steady, usual for Sunday morning, but Hutch's attention casually drifted to the sidewalk directly below him. He jumped inside himself and barely kept from calling out. He'd been smacked like a nightmare. "Shit. Granny got it?" he mouthed. He was stunned to see a woman slowly pass beneath the window. She was old and moved like it. All in white from head to toe, blending beautifully with her black skin. She was also unmistakably carrying the large Abita beer case that flew out the jeep window with Clint Olson. It had the large mark in the corner that Mr. C required of his bartenders for inventory, but was the money in it?
