I hoped to find leads to the Crooks history in town. The Falmouth Renewal Offices seemed like a good place to start. But it was dark inside and stripped to the studs. The contract supervisor, covered in a fine layer of dust, eventually joined Troy and I out on the street.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work,” I said, and explained what we were after.
“Crooks?” he said. “Don’t they own a nightclub in Montego Bay?”
“Oh. Well, could be,” I said, thinking that would be an entirely predictable vocation for my kin. “Which club is it?”