Sitting around one of the tiny tables at Bitondo’s Pizza, Middleton, Cooter and Tuttle looked down at the worn namebadge. They were all thinking the same thing … that, in some way, the innocent-seeming scrap of card was somehow responsible for Arn Metzger’s death. None of them believed in supernatural causation, but they all had a keen appreciation of psychologically-driven malaises.
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