Fortress Of Ephemera: A Gothic Thriller - Plot & Excerpts
Or at least I was until very recently. I am—was—a partner in the above-named Upper East Side law firm. One morning late last month, while still suffering from the previous night's intemperance, I staggered into the firm's outer foyer to borrow some aspirin powder from the receptionist, a Miss Althea Pimm.Our offices are located on the ground floor, facing Park Avenue, and when the street door opened, it ushered in a blast of city noise along with a scrawny little man of advanced years, oddly appareled. With every step he jingled, as if his pockets were full of coins, though the source of his music proved otherwise. “I wish to speak with Alfred Trenowyth,” he said without introduction or preamble. “I have urgent business.”The bowler on his head was thirty years out of fashion, and he'd spoken as if mon père were still alive. I tottered across the floor at him, not entirely convinced of his materiality. “I am Miles Trenowyth, Alfred's son. My father was a partner here, but he has been dead these past fifteen years.”As the stranger contemplated this news, I peeked at his aforementioned chapeau, at his gray coat, buttoned high with a tiny collar, at his floppy black bow tie and billowy peg-top trousers.
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