And, oh yes, Bernie Bastard knows the law. I sat back, wondering upon which client I should bestow the gladsome news. My cellphone rang again. With no...anticipation, but with a mild dread, I answered, ‘Lou Bascom.’ ‘My fucking sister, that filthy fucking cunt, she should die and rot in hell! She won’t give me or Joey the statements, and she threw me out when I went to see her. Call the cops.’ ‘Peter,’ I replied, ‘we won’t need the cops. I expect we’ll be in court this afternoon. Are you free at. I turned and grabbed one more crucial package from my pantry and set everything down on my counter. By the time he walked into the kitchen, the water was already on the boil and I was chopping at the counter - the pancetta had to be broken down to little strips- lardons, before I threw them in the pan, applying heat to release their warm, salty nectar. I added a splash of the wine into the pan and let everything mingle. He strolled in, confident in his nakedness, and brushes his lips against. More

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