Mourn the Hangman

Blake opened the door and took his first step into Hell. He had come to his apartment with a lilt in his walk, pleasantly burdened with candy and flowers. This was to be a reconciliation with his wife, Stella. Stella, who hated private investigators—“private snitches,” she called them.

So he had resigned from the firm of Bricker and Blake: Investigators. Too bad it had to be in the middle of the tough Arrenhower job. But Stella was worth it.

The room was in shambles. There was Stella, battere...