Ann Summers was there at her desk, in a simple black dress today. She remembered me and was glad to see me, a combination I don’t always get. On the other hand, given the activity level in the office, she was probably glad to see anyone. “He’s back,” I said. “Yes, he’s just down the hall.” “Do you handle his checkbook?” I said. “Mr. Tripp’s? Not really, why do you ask?” “His check bounced,” I said and took the bank notice out of my pocket and showed it to her. “Mr. Tripp’s?” “Un huh.” “Oh dear,” she said. “Probably a mistake.” “Oh, I’m sure it is.” I said. I waved it off and she showed me into Tripp’s big office and sat me in the leather chair by his desk. The office was done in green. The walls and woodwork were green.
