The signal arrived on a Tuesday in November, which was ironic because Tuesdays never amounted to anything in Charles Sterling's experience. Tuesdays were for laundry and bad coffee and the particul...
Charles Sterling had been a radar technician during the war, and after the war he had become a private investigator, which was essentially the same job except with more bottles of bourbon and fewer officers calling his name. He was forty years old, had a scar on his left forearm from a bar fight in Jersey, and had learned the hard way that the truth, when you found it, was never what you...
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