I was going downstairs, ready to have Mom color my hair, when the phone rang. Mom answered. I could tell by the conversation that it was Sylvia Trotte..., who owned the motel out near the highway, one of mom's good friends. "No, Sylvia," mom said. "I don't know why those guests who just came in would be asking if Ron were here. I haven't heard from him for weeks." She paused. "Ruthie came in for a visit this evening, though. If I hear from Ron, should I call you? Okay. Thanks, Syl." She glanced. Is that going to be good enough for you?”I shrugged. “I’ve got no interest in making any of this public. I just won’t let this guy back in. If he heads off to East Asshole, Indiana, and never shows his face again, that will be just fine with me.” I cocked my head to the side a touch and asked, “So where does this leave me? Shit flows downhill. Is any going to splash on you or me? I’m sorry if you catch any grief on this, Newt. That wasn’t my intention.”He waved it off. “This won’t be a problem.. More

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