He knew every man in the room. And me.He placed a tape recorder on the table, Bulldog would have a tape recorder, wouldn’t he? He pointed to George Eugene Randolph who had played football for the Army during the Korean conflict. Bulldog said, “You first.”He went around the room, one by one, recording impressions, guesses, remembered images.I was in Notes, typing furiously before I began losing what I’d memorized.Daddy was next to arrive; it’s not that far from Brookside to the Crossroads. Forty-some blocks north with a flasher on his car roof.He gave me a quick hug and read my hastily jotted notes while he listened to man after man speak into Bulldog’s recorder.It wasn’t the crime that brought Bulldog out. It was the men who’d been robbed. Players, some of them. Respected, most of them. Connected, a couple of them.Daddy came because of me. Probably I’m his favorite daughter.When it was my turn I started with my money, “I brought...”Herb Finn jumped in, “Two hundred dollars.”Another. " John said. He folded the newspaper and set it aside and then placed his pipe down next to it. Gillian joined him as he walked up to the edge of the porch and leaned against the rail. She pressed her body close to his side, her hair brushing his neck, her bosom resting against his ribs. He wrapped an arm around her and savored the moment, the way she felt in his arms."Why, it almost looks like its out near Grover's Garage!" She said. John agreed. The small mechanic shop and convenience store was in that area somewhere.Or had been.Suddenly the night sky lit up as what was surely Grover's exploded."It's the commies!" He shouted. She molded herself tighter to him, her brunette hair covering her face as she nuzzled into his arm. "They're attacking us!" What are we going to do?!" Gillian said. Panic seized her voice. John wrapped her tighter in his arms."Don't worry, honey; I'll protect you! Let's head toward town! The military will save us soon!"The two of them sprinted from the porch to.
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