Chapter 17: Teetering
748 Chelton Street
June 11, 20—
4:48 P.M.
Mike Bollard’s office was four blocks from the Stolid Art Gallery. The place was all glass and shiny stainless steel. His assistant, a Mario Lopez look-alike, welcomed me with a wide grin and flickering medium-brown eyes. I guessed the pretty boy was in his early twenties. I winked at him and said, “I have a meeting with Mike at five.”
“He’s waiting for you in the back, sir.” “Mario” was getting ready to leave. He turned off his computer, tidied the papers on his desk, and stood up from his chair. “Go ahead back, Mr. Pierce. You know the way.”
I did know the way, having visited Mike many times before. The hallway was narrow and bleak, with no color or artwork. A stale orange aroma, mixed with the heavy scent of Mike’s fa
