Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

flex when the truck hits a pothole.”

“Every bottle has a failure point, Mrs. Miller,” Arthur said.

“Then let us find it,” I said. I picked up the flat-sided jug by its handle and held it out to him. “Drop it.”

Arthur looked at the jug, then at the carpeted floor. He did not move his hands from his vest.

“Go ahead,” I said. “It is just water.”

Gregory moved continue reading …