Murphy could only shrug at that, a round clock face emerging on the paper in front of him. His drawing skills were nothing to write home about.

"I don't know your story, pal." And who was he to say what someone else deserved? He'd thought he had that right, once. Look where that had gotten him. Hell and deeper into hell, and no way out no matter where he turned. Was this about justice and karma? Or was it some sick joke?

"You got any family?"