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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