The rain had been falling for three days when Violet Hart walked into my office. She was wearing a white dress that was too clean for Los Angeles in November, and her hair was the color of money. She
I lit a cigarette. "That'll be five dollars." She put a ten-dollar bill on the desk. "Find out who. And find out why." Violet Hart's husband was Richard Hart, vice president at Delgado Aerospace, a company that made things that exploded and things that did not explode, and made a lot of money doing both. Richard Hart worked long hours, came home late, and smelled like a woman's perfume that was...
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