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Weekly Contest #350
Dead Men’s Clothes Well, it’s a pay day. Not much of one, but a pay day, nonetheless. The subject was in a home in Brooklyn, and that meant an hour’s drive there, an hour with him, the doctors and the nurses, and another hour back. Plus, tolls! The Parkway, Turnpike, Goethals and Verrazano Bridges. When it opened in 1964 the Verrazano toll was a dollar. When Callaghan goes over the span in a few days, that toll alone will be seven bucks. “Robbery!” thought Callaghan. Callaghan thumbed through the file on John Larou...
Weekly Contest #347
BLESS ME, FATHER…. It was Monsignor Dolan’s job to do, but one too many holiday dinners with his wealthy parishioners had brought on a case of gout and made it impossible for him to walk. The early December snowfall had already deposited over six inches on Greene Street and showed no sign of letting up, so Msgr. Dolan couldn’t drive his car from the garage at St. Francis Xavier RC Church to the penitentiary a few blocks away on Fairmont. A younger, stronger priest would have to make the walk there, so Dolan’s new assistant, Father ...
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