9 Chapter 9

The Boxford Agency

Tal brought a Styrofoam cup of coffee and ruby-colored paper folder into my office instead of a bottle of whiskey, which he had access to and would have shared with me had I not been an alcoholic. The desire to have a morning drink had never seized. My taste buds and mental state craved nothing less. Perhaps that’s exactly how my mother felt each and every morning after a night of hardcore binging.

“I came prepared,” Tal said, and sat where Maddy Shore and Benny Sting had sat only minutes before. He took a sip of his coffee, opened the paper file in front of him, and said, “I’m not a professional case cracker like you, Joe, but I think we should start questioning people close to Evan Sting.”