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Show 204 "That was a cop's cop," Mr. Richards said after the man had passed out the door. "That was the meanest son-of-a-bitch-excuse me, Sharon-I think I've ever seen." He pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket. "And I was raised in this city." He ripped the cellophane off the cigar. "He must have been-what six-eight? Six-ten? I didn't think they made them that big." "After talking with him," the pharmacist said, "I was ready to confess to doing it myself." Mr. Richards stuck the cigar in his mouth, rolling it to one side and biting down on it so he could talk, "What do you think, Sharon?" "I don't know." Her mind was on Steve, she realized. "I'm glad he's on our side. That is, I guess I'm glad he's on our side." "Yeah," Mr. Richards said thoughtfully, "I think I know what you mean. I wouldn't want to be the punk that he catches up with." "I hope he does catch him," the pharmacist said, "Before he comes back and tries it again." He frowned. "Next time, maybe we won't be so lucky." "Oh, we'll never see that guy again." Mr. Richards shook his head, as if he were shaking the thought from his mind, "He's too smart for something like that." "Besides," his face suddenly lit up, "we didn't have what he was after." He turned to Sharon, turning away from his thoughts of last night, "Well, kid, I guess we won't see you tomorrow." "No. My brother and I are going to my aunt's for dinner." "Well, then, I have a little something for you." He pulled out his wallet and removed a slip of paper, handing it to her. It was a |