Angela Guthrie was upset, worse than that she was terrified.
She had come to work at the bookstore like any other day only to find that her employer, Ingrid Magnusson was not there and she could not get into the store.
She waited outside.
It was hot and the air was thick with humidity, she feared her make-up would not hold out much longer if she had to continue standing in the sun.
She had never experienced this before. Ingrid had never been late; she had never not shown up.
After about fifteen minutes Angela walked up Lake Street, past the Elementary School, to Hennepin Avenue where she found a phonebooth.
She dialed Ingrid’s home.
She dialed her studio, still no answer.
While she was at the phonebooth Angela watched a long black sedan turn onto Lake and a chill went up her spine as a wave of nausea rolled through her.
She knew the car, it belonged to Ingrid’s partner, Karl Thorrson, a notorious gangster. Ingrid swore he was more than that; she called him a sorcerer, and Angela had never been forced to deal with him before…alone
This gave Angela a deep sense of foreboding. She did not want to be near him if Ingrid was not present.
She put the handset back in its cradle and walked back to the reading room, fighting her fear, knowing that she was expected.
She watched the black sedan pull up in front and watched the giant-monster of a man get out, then she watched the car pull away, leaving him alone on the sidewalk outside the store.
As she approached him, she watched another car pull up and park. This one was gray and clean, and the engine purred smoothly as it went past her.
The man who got out of this car wore a gray suit just like his car, it was silky and shiny, he was tall and lean and good looking she thought.
The gray man was speaking to Thorrson when Angela stopped in front of them. He looked at her like he might carve her up on the spot.
She had never met him before but she knew this was Thorrson’s killer, the man people called The Wolf.