Sheila knew that the Eat & Shop on the corner of 53rd and Oleson was a flimsy front for an all-in-the-family whorehouse. CHAPTER XVIII. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. I got a rusty bolt cutter. . There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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