MICHAEL
t was after five o clock when he left the courthouse. Pushing
open the glass doors， he felt the wall of heat push back at him，
the sun pouring more heat down on his head. Unseasonable
weather for May in Michigan; in the nineties for the last two
weeks， and no rain in sight. How long had it been since they d
had any? Those farmers around the state with vineyards and
cherry orchards would know. A bad summer ahead if this did not
end soon.
He walked toward the parking lot， feeling the sweat break out
on his forehead. Underneath his suitcoat his shirt was sticking to
his back. Hotter now at five o clock than it had been at noon; the
air so thick you could make a fist and squeeze it through your fin-
gers.
While he waited for the air conditioning to take over， he drove
with the windows down; turned the vents so that the cooled air
would spill upward into his face. Ahead of him a green Ford
sedan with a Shriner s fez in the rear window made as if to com-
plete the turn onto Telegraph Road， then halted in the middle of
the intersection. Damnit， move. He laid on the horn， and the car
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