The LifeEvery day we might, my best friend Jonathan Diamond and I met for luncheon on Market Center. We tried to go different places each time to escape the chance of reporters.
I’d eaten at this day’s restaurant often. It was a favorite with the police, which made for an occasional awkwardness. But the reporters never tried to force their way in as they did other locales.
The restaurant had fine wood paneling and a patio in the back with small round tables, a large umbrella covering each. That day, the weather being nice, Jonathan had chosen a table outside near the back wall.
Jonathan was eight and twenty, a tall man with very dark skin and fine-coiled black hair. He wore his navy blue uniform as Keeper of the Court. Yet he also wore a black boiled-wool overcoat and black leather glov
