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mention the fact that a tight budget forced one to aim a little lower and a lot less sophisticated when shopping for office space.
    Inside my beloved, however squatty, building a narrow corridor splits the leaseable first floor space.   A small kitchen that we use as a lounge along with the tiniest bathroom ever designed brings up the rear.   As you near the reception area, there are two final doors, one to the left, one to the right, each leading to a slightly cramped office separated from reception by a glass wall.   Mine was on the right—the one decorated with accolades and achievements from my son’s academic life.   The other was currently vacant.   My uncle had carried away the last of his personal belongings last week.
    God I missed him.   How could spending four-day weekends at some casino resort hotel with all those gambling senior citizens be more fun than solving cases with me?   It never ceased to amaze me how most of those folks wouldn’t be caught dead in Sin City but slap a few casinos in a small community situated within the realm of the Bible belt and that made it okay.   Go figure.
    Having Hank Mercer trade in time with me for gambling and chasing after sexually active widows was simply unconscionable.   He swore it wasn’t personal.   He had turned sixty-five and decided that he wanted to spend his remaining time on this earth exploring all he’d missed after thirty years as a cop and then ten being my partner.   I, on the other hand, felt reasonably sure it was nothing more than a rogue Y chromosome he’d somehow managed to keep under control longer than most.   Now he was on a ship somewhere in the Caribbean trying to make up for lost time.
    At least I still had Hobbs.
    Speaking of which, I paused in the reception area, territory lorded over by my hyperactive assistant that includes a great view of the street and an entrance from the main lobby of the building.   An ancient but full of character staircase in that shared main lobby leads to the upper floors as well as to the underground pedestrian tunnel system.   That perk was supposed to entice tenants to overlook the building’s numerous other eccentricities like bad plumbing and less than adequate wiring.   As you may have already guessed my landlord is a man.
    Just another prime example proving men are scum.   I glowered at my assistant but then reminded myself that, technically, he didn’t count.
    “Let me get Dawson’s file for you.”   Hobbs scooted past me and hurried to his desk.
    I followed...wondering why I would even consider hiring a man when a woman would surely be a better choice.   Since no one else, male or female, had applied I might as well get over it and take a quick gander at the guy’s application before meeting him.   I glanced toward the glass wall of my office and noted the back of a dark blond head.   Dawson sat in one of the two chairs facing my desk.   Judging by the one long leg I could see and the rise of his shoulders above the seat’s back, I would estimate his height at six one or two.   His relaxed posture indicated massive amounts of self-confidence or just plain laziness.   I deemed neither particularly attractive in a potential employee.   Strike one.
    Hobbs shoved a manila folder in my hand, dragging my attention back to him.   “I really think you’ll like him.”
    Ignoring the comment, I squinted as I attempted to read Dawson’s information.
    “Try these.”
    Hobbs passed me a pair of black-framed reading glasses, the half lens type.   “When did you start wearing glasses?” I asked, surprised.   Who knew?   He hadn’t mentioned vision problems.   Who would have thought that anything could faze my impervious assistant?   Hmmm.   He was a mere mortal after all.
    “They’re not for me,” he said archly, “they’re for you.”
    Appalled at his suggestion, I stared at the truly ugly eyewear with something akin to contempt.   “You’re kidding, right?”   Even