Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

was filled with the scent of griddled onions and strong tea. A plate of dry toast and a small pot of hot water cost five dollars, and I laid the bill on the worn counter.

Raymond Cross sat in the booth behind me, his wire-rimmed glasses resting on a white microfiber cloth as he polished the lenses. He did not turn around, but his booming baritone carried continue reading …