Chapter 1
Andre Telkin adored the groovy old neighborhoods on the east side of Atlanta, any time of day or night, and pretty much every day of the year.
Wide graceful streets, with huge oak and pine and maple trees everywhere. Even after dark and early in Georgia’s blink-and-you-miss-it springtime, the massive tree trunks in yards and along sidewalks added a solid sense of an established home. All that green kept the air smelling fresh and clean rather than choked up with the stink of too many people, not to mention the few gas-burners still roaming the highways.
Some of the streets were even divided by a strip of grass, flowers, and trees down the middle. All those miniature gardens were tastefully decorated and maintained, of course, with the whole community pitching in. Most of them
