3Argyle SocksOf the many doctors practicing in Harley Street, Billy had chosen the only one to still wear argyle socks when off the golf course.
He was a tall bone-thin man with a mop of coarse gray hair that sprouted at odd angles from both his head and ears. His gold wire-rimmed spectacles jiggled on his beak-like nose in time to his fingernails pecking at the easy chair he sat in, pulling invisible strands out of the thread-bare arm.
The office had the barren look of accommodation in the process of being returned to a rental agent. There was little furniture, few comforts, and it was grubby in the corners. For Billy, this last point gave it a high creep factor, and he always shuddered on entry and tried not to look at the layers of dust and grime.
Seated, he still had a slight view o
