When The Doorbell Rings At Three In

I Love The Idea That Magic And Witchcraft And Battles Between Supernatural Creatures Could Be Raging All Around Us But Just Out Of Our Sight.

Let Me Tell You, Alex. He's A Crook. He's Based Here In Miami. He's A Nasty Piece Of Work." "he's Mexican" Troy Added.

I Hear It Still. As I Lay Down My Pen And Take To My Bed, I Am Aware Of The Bow Being Drawn Across The Bridge And The Music Rises Into The Night Sky. It Is Far Away And Barely Audible - But There It Is! A Pizzicato. Then A Tremelo. The Style Is Unmistakable. It Is Sherlock Holmes Who Is Playing. It Must Be. I Hope With All My Heart That He Is Playing For Me . . .

Inside Every Fat Man, There's A Thin Man Trying To Get Out.

He Looked From The Phone To The Unconscious Figure Of The Salesman. "what Did You Do To Him?" He Asked. "he Got The Wrong Number," Alex Said.