Culture Clash
By Thursday of the following week—the first week of May—my mind and body were utterly exhausted from sleeping in four hour shifts. I would never make it in the navy or as a private eye, apparently. Lenz seemed unfazed by the schedule, his spirit’s darkness seething with vitality whenever we relieved each other. It occurred to me toward the end of our stakeout that Lenz loved doing stuff like this, collecting information on criminals and potential leads.
Meanwhile, I spent the early morning hours fighting boredom, watching working women drifting from motel room to motel room, renting out their services to clients. They turned their earnings over to Remmi in the back parking lot before sunrise, his sinister voice and sometimes his hands molesting them in the process. They wer
