“I tried turning her doorknob, but it didn't twist this time. The human bulldozer on the porch behind me provided a ready solution.
"Can you ram down her door?" I asked.
"The crashing noise will disturb her neighbors," replied Esquire.
"Then how do we get inside?" He removed a cloth-wrapped packet from inside his windbreaker. "I can pick the lock." Hearing that surprised me. "How did you learn that skill?" "Young Hermes was a sneak thief in a former life, and I figured it might be useful to know in my upholstery racket, so he taught me the finer points." "I owe Hermes a vote of thanks." "Don't we all, sweetheart. Don't we all." "Just do your open sesame, please." After I shifted aside, Esquire stepped on Gwen's slate porch and crouched over at her door. Standing guard behind him, I heard the steel scratching on steel. He cursed and tinkered at the door lock for a plodding minute. One street down toward the old library a spirited gang of kids—girls and boys—hollered their taunts back and forth.
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