‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. My profession has hardened me. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. That is, until I investigated Iovelli-Alberti in the Fourteenth Century!” They reached a part of the subdivision dubbed “The Treehouse”, a popular hangout for edgy teens who smoked joints in its foundation pits. A sob was strangled in her throat. “You know, my mom caught me smoking once with Missy. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line.
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