My Karmann Ghia's engine roared to life on the garage floor. One of the kids motioned to me with a clipboard. I mumbled a goodbye to my companion. In closing, I half-expected her to beg me to forget about everything she'd said, ask for some kind of a handout, or even furtively thrust a religious tract into my hands. Instead, she produced a quick, bitter summary for me to chew on the rest of the day.
Cops protect their own.
There was no investigation. She got the house, the bank account, and the '70 Ford Galaxy. A real, selfish bitch.