William Barnes was my dad’s right-hand man and a steady older guy. He was my version of Yoda; without the green complexion and long ears. William, d...n’t call me Bill, was ten years older than my old-man, meaning he was sixty-one. He had overseen the daily operation at Jackson, from as far back as I could remember.His title was Chief Operating Officer, but it might as well have been Drill Instructor. He had always been kindly, like the older uncle. Now he was a demanding task-master. He started. What’s-her-face was going to have chip in for the good of Hank's jewels. I snagged her phone number, planning a rendezvous for later that afternoon. At about 2:30 PM, I called and she said that she was home alone and free for the afternoon. She gave me directions to her apartment and told me to bring a pint of whiskey. Here I went, Jim Bean, brown-bagged, in hand, to her apartment, which was a glorified dorm room on campus. I hadn't ever seen her before and this was in the day before. More

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