“You here, Frankie?” Finn called as he let himself into his uncle’s apartment.

He heard a grunt coming from the direction of Frankie’s den and headed that way. There was music playing, but not the Dean Martin or Sammy Davis Junior that Finn would have expected to hear. It sounded more like a funeral dirge and probably was if Finn knew his uncle at all. It didn't bode well for what he would find when he reached the den.

Finn stood on the threshold and looked into the dark room. The smell of stale cigars and unwashed body filled his nose and he held back a sigh. It had been...