Julia Gibbs’s high-back chair had barely become cold when Ramon Zdunczyk sat his fat ass in it. With a large double-double in one hand and a Boston cream donut in the other, he swiveled round to face the back wall and planted one foot against it, followed by the other. He bit into his donut while he cursorily surveyed her degrees and testimonials. Ten years had gone by since he had been passed over for the position of Chief of Police. Playing second fiddle to the likes of her irked him. He stuffed ...