I'm room 36; 3rd door on the left on the 3rd floor. I park on the side of a nearly deserted street when I get there, and by now my cigarette is nearl... burning my lips. I've been mulling over when my friend(if you can call him that) Johnny Figgs said earlier that day: "Dead guys don't talk... and they sure don't shoot... Watch your back Morty"He told me this because I've been working on a case that involves some fucknuts hiring me to spy on his wife. As luck would have it she's fucking some. "You need a good vocabulary to study law," he said. He'd tell me the meaning of legal terms like "malfeasance" and "misfeasance".I thought it was a little strange for someone to go to law school by mail, but I respected his intellect and I made sure to keep my voice down whenever George went upstairs to his bedroom to study. "George's studying," my grandmother would say, with a tone of reverence. "He needs us to be very quiet."My father would say, "George should be on the stage," and it was. Soon we were off to The Corner for supper and shakes, or a shake, I should say. We shared a big one. I had an extra critical eye for Allison as she served us, knowing the advice Woody had asked about crossing home plate with her. The was nothing noticeably different about her, but I sort of enjoyed the secret knowledge I had about her. I always liked her and wished the best for her. Maybe later tonight those two would get it right.Mandy insisted on paying that night, and I let her. We talked to. "Get him into the basement," The building was more or less empty and I was glad at that moment, that the real estate market was slow. I hoped that Leon had Dancer upstairs, so that he wouldn't be curious. I doubted that he had the stomach for what might be happening under his feet three floors down.The hostage was in a chair used by the maintenance people. When they worked on things from around the condo or even my Downtown House, they brought them to the basement work area. The whole basement.