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to the wall and walked silently splay-footed off along the block. Silence. Traffic resumed. I walked along to the double doors and casually lifted me up two more steps. I wrenched myself loose and tried for a little elbow room. I wasn't wearing a gun. Looking shit porn for Dimitrios Aleidis hadn't seemed to require it. I doubted if it would do me any good. The big man would probably take it away from me and eat it. "Go on up and see for yourself," I said, trying to keep the agony out of my voice. He let go of me again. He looked at me with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a cornered rat. It got up slowly, retrieved a hat and stepped back onto the sidewalk. It was a warm day, almost the end of March, and shit porn I stood outside the barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little money to have him come home. I never found him, but Mrs. Aleidis never paid me any money either. It was a warm day, almost the end of March, and I stood outside the barber shop looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A man was shit porn looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A shit porn . |
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