Chapter 13

Instead, he walked into a room that felt like someone’s living room. Specifically, someone’s grandmother’s living room. Rich carpets covered the floor, with overstuffed couches covered in doilies anywhere he could possibly want to sit and some places he couldn’t imagine anyone would want to settle. The scuffed oak end tables had hurricane lamp lighting and knickknacks up the wazoo, and in one corner sat an old stereo/radio console, with the top propped open and Bing Crosby crooning for the entire room to hear.

When Fess hesitated, Joe took the initiative and headed straight for the record player, crouching down to inspect the walnut carving that protected the speaker screens. Early sixties, by the design of it, but the sound quality was better than he would’ve expected.

“Leave it to you to go straight for the electronics,” Fess said at his shoulder.