Detective Rivers
I groaned as I rubbed the back of my neck. f*****g Craig Williams. I was pissed. We met at a bar. I was a little drunk bitching about my retirement, when he gave me his business card. He pitched me a spiel, and I turned over my retirement to him. He had taken my measly $30,000 and turned it into $150,000. When the medical examiner called me to give me a heads-up about a poisoning death and gave me the name, I went rigid. I looked into my account, and I about had a heart attack. The company was no longer. There was a notice saying it had been sold, that all investment accounts had been closed, and that the money in them would be returned to the appropriate account holder. But here was the thing. Craig had told me that if I signed my account over to him, he'd make me a mil
