The Glass Prescription
The first witness died on a Tuesday. I know this because I was in the office that morning, reviewing the Harlow case files, when the phone rang. It was the night desk at Bellevue. They told me the man who'd been sitting in my waiting room twenty minutes before—Arthur Pendergast, the accountant—had walked off the roof of his apartment building on West 63rd Street. Not jumped. Walked. The super...
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