byThis was a warm day in August—a very warm day. Slim Coleman, my partner in detection work, says the sun is ninety million miles away, but this day it must have sneaked up pretty close. You could even see the heat waves coming up off the sidewalk. You can’t fry an egg on the pavement in Fort Worth, though, because you can’t stay out in the sun that long.
I mopped my brow, slung the water off my fingertips, and went into the lobby of the National Bank Building. The washed air made it cool and nice in there, and I slowed down to enjoy it. But one of the elevators came down, the door slid open, and the first man to get off was Swanberg, the building manager—our landlord—all dressed up in striped trousers and a fancy vest and wearing a high wing collar and a genuine cravat. He looked impecca
