I didn’t see Brown Hat anywhere when I climbed out of the cab, which was just fine. I had other things on my mind, and I figured he’d be there when I left. Actually, I figured he’d be there all night: I planned on going down the fire escape steps in the back of the building. I heard my phone ringing as I reached the eighth-floor landing—Mike Figlia had left at eleven as usual, so I’d climbed the stairs all the way up. Whoever it was, I wasn’t going to hurry: I was in pretty good shape, but I’d had a hard day and I was out of breath. This hour of the night it could only be bad news, anyway. Or a wrong number. Bad news could wait till morning. The office was dark except for the faint spill from the lone forty-watt bulb in the hall—building management spared no expense when it came to tenants seeing their way after hours—and the neon sign flashing somewhere outside my window. Someday I intended to poke my head out there and see what it said.
What do You think about Noir(ish) (9781101610053) (2012)?
