“Repartimento.” The sound of that word would haunt him for the rest of his days.

But Tony was already coming out of the shower. With a white towel around his waist he fancied himself a Greek orator, so he gave two thumbs up to his reflection. Tony Hammer, P. I., the Oscar Wilde of detective ballads, left the bathroom determined to spread the good news all around his backyard deck. This beautiful, chilled spring morning was progressing favorably; he wasn’t gonna let anything ruin his day.