Death And Taxes
“Probably not. But there was nothing I could do about it till I gave him time. What I could do was stop by the Inspiration Hotel and see what my visit last night had stirred up. I could ask Ethan Simonov about the books. I pictured Simonov leaning over the desk as he had last night, elfin eyes gleaming with readiness to battle the city council or organize an expedition or create a party game. If I’d had to nominate someone for death-game master, Simonov would be high on the list.
It was just bef...ore noon when I walked out of Ott’s building. The smell of tomato sauce, oregano, and garlic wrapped around my nostrils like a nose ring and drew me into the pizza shop. The dense fog had emptied the Avenue, but those who had braved the danger of wet had done it for food. The tiny pizza joint was packed. Inside, the smell of tomato sauce battled with the stench of wet wool. Students in rugby shirts, shorts, and goose-bumpy legs huddled by the stand-up shelf along the soda and sauce-stained wall stuffing deep-dish pepperoni in their mouths and mumbling about on-line access or the Cal Bears season.MoreLess
It was just bef...ore noon when I walked out of Ott’s building. The smell of tomato sauce, oregano, and garlic wrapped around my nostrils like a nose ring and drew me into the pizza shop. The dense fog had emptied the Avenue, but those who had braved the danger of wet had done it for food. The tiny pizza joint was packed. Inside, the smell of tomato sauce battled with the stench of wet wool. Students in rugby shirts, shorts, and goose-bumpy legs huddled by the stand-up shelf along the soda and sauce-stained wall stuffing deep-dish pepperoni in their mouths and mumbling about on-line access or the Cal Bears season.MoreLess
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