To Catch a Thief
Things were disappearing in my neighborhood. Jewels, expensive-looking heirlooms, some medicines and spirits. There was a thief in the area, Harry Moser’s wife had gotten a peek at him, and a rendering was put up on the town board. He was handsome, if the likeness was true. A strong jaw, sharp eyes beneath a dark brow, bearded. The day of St. Valentine drew near, when any man or woman without the warmth of another body in their bed was a thing to pity. I’d gone five years without that joy,...