—1—Search Problems
The door opened without a knock—only the hinge’s creak announced the visitor. Frank started for his crossbow, but pulled up short. If the Vinettees were coming for him, they would have knocked—with an axe. Whoever was coming through the door must want to talk. Frank reached for his mug instead and downed the remainder of his now-cold coffee.
“Captain Donovan,” he said as the man entered. “What brings you to this fine neighborhood? I thought you didn’t venture below Fifteenth Street anymore.”
“It’s been a while,” the captain said simply. “How’ve you been, Frank?”
“Spectacular,” Frank answered dryly, eyeing the captain as he walked a slow circuit around the room.
Donovan scanned Frank’s shabby office. His red officer’s cloak ...
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