Turkwon't bother you again. I promise you that."Across the yard a man appeared at the door of the apartment whereBen was suddenly sure his mother was...leading him. He wore a whitetank top, dirty jeans and leather strap-side boots. A chain hungfrom his belt and vanished into his back left pocket. The huge armsthat were folded over his massive chest were covered with tattoos,some of the professionally drawn, others, were clearly prisontattoos. They twisted down the man's arms to the wrists. ”“Okay, so which one the pot business, or the worm business?”she asked.“Personal business,” I said with a smile. “Make sure no one hears you about the pot.”“You really are a dog aren’t you?” she asked.“Well, I’m certainly no saint,” I agreed.“That’s a good thing cause I’m not a good catholic these days,” she said.“That sounds promising,” I suggested.“I’m not searching for a boyfriend. My husband and I are separated. Sandy and I live alone and I like it that way,” she explained.“Maurine and I. More

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