The waves generated by the heavy river traffic were making his small craft dance around lazily on its anchor chains. But it was no inconvenience. He actually enjoyed the sensation. He sat in the wheelhouse of the small cabin cruiser with a pair of binoculars up to his eyes. A serious frown contorted his usual handsome looks into a mask of frustration. On the far side of the river, overlooking the river itself like some ancient dowager of the ‘30s, the ex-hotel now residence of one Turner Hahn still looked quite impressive. The brick edifice had a suggestion of art deco to its architectural design. A small jetty ran out into the river just underneath the building, sitting high on a riverbank. Moored to it was one fast-looking speedboat, sleek in design, and hosting two rather large outboard
