The Temperature at Which a Man Becomes a Mirror
The kind of heat that builds in Los Angeles during a Santa Ana wind is not the kind of heat you feel on your skin. It is the kind of heat that presses against the inside of your skull, that curls around your spine like a slow fuse, that makes men do things they would not do in cooler weather. I had been a detective for eleven years by the summer of 1954, and I knew heat the way a blacksmith...
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