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The Littlest Client #193


The door to one of the construction trailers opened and Gallagher exited along with the two goons that were with him at the golf course. He was dressed a little less goofy this time, wearing a white sweater, black slacks and black loafers. He stepped up on to the concrete slab that would one day be the floor of the Cape Point Club. He waded through the stacked lumber and stopped about ten feet from us.

"Well," Gallagher said, looking at Max and the case, "you're a man of your word, Randolph."

"I just hope you are, Gallagher," I said...

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