“Come back in three weeks to have the neckline cleaned up.

You wear it very well.”

I paid her forty dollars in cash, left a ten-dollar tip on her tray, and stepped out into the cold, damp morning.

Frank’s law office in Oak Park was on the third floor of a converted brick building just off Lake Street.

The radiator under the window clanked steadily while Frank took off his wire-rimmed glasses to polish them with a white cloth.

I spread the contents of my leather briefcase across his polished oak desk.