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I am telling you that this is a copy of the letter that was in that bottle. But you might be better. Campbell tapped his fish with his fork.So what do you think is going on there? Money laundering? What is big deal about this Locust thing? asked the Russian. Im sorry if I interrupted anything. Weve been setting it up for him. Quane said. Big shit, said Rick. I eat fucking Rangers for breakfast. The man walked over. He was Black, about Devines height and lean, maybe forty-five or a bit older, bald head, and furrowed skin on his brow. He wore a dark blue suit that looked good on his athletic frame. His shoes were black and rubber soled. He flashed a badge and an official ID housed in a cred pack, like he was a magician doing a card trick. Detective Karl Hancock, NYPD. Unfortunately, he has not returned as yet, Mason said. I— Hes not there, Stone said. I feel that the person who discharged the bullet into the body of George Lutts was standing at eighteen to twenty inches from the victim at the time the bullet was fired. Two hours later, Mason, Della Street and Paul Drake faced a crestfallen detective across Masons desk. Hi, Sig, Stone said. Seven One twenty-five? At this point that mysterious letter from Minerva Danby enters the picture. It had been written by a woman. It accused George Alder of murder. It put Alder in a very embarrassing position. Obviously if hed murdered Minerva Danby he must have done it to have kept Corrine Lansing from officially coming to life. That would mean the trip to the Jonathan Club. Della Street said impulsively,I presume you dont feel much like talking after living with those old memories, and . . Thats right...