T-- invited me over for a beer. He wanted to discuss the robbery.

     His deck furniture is nicer than mine now that he has a woman in the house. We sat facing the yard, which we agreed was better than facing each other. “It was an inside job,” T-- said.

     “You think she had a hand in it?”

     “No,” he said, “I think B-- stole all that stuff so he could sell it, make a buck, and leave town.”

     “Leave town?” I asked. “He has the interview next week. You said he’s practically a shoe-in.”

     “That’s exactly why he did it.”

     “Say again?” I was baffled. I’m easily...

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