Prologue

There were plenty of vacant seats at the bar. I was seated in my usual spot; from here I could see all the action and still maintain a certain degree of privacy. I was early, nursing a beer, waiting for the regulars to dribble in. I’m a newspaper journalist. Or at least I was until the paper began to experience a deluge of red ink requiring a paring back of its reporting staff. I was one of the lucky ones; however, at least I landed on my feet and found a position as a freelance journalist for a group of monthly and quarterly magazines. It wasn’t the reason I got into journalism in the first place, but at least it put food on the table, a roof over my head, and allowed me the chance to maintain my friendships with the people I had worked with for over fifteen years.

Those were the people who would be coming through the front door any minute now. It was nearly five o’clock on Friday, time to kick back, raise a glass or two, and complain about work before leaving the city for home. Being single had some definite advantages. I had nowhere to be and no one to answer to, so I could come early and leave late, and hopefully not alone.