The only concession Homes had made to au naturel, as far as Dr. Whatsin could surmise, was that Homes had thoughtfully remembered to open his trouser'... zipper. This time.Unlike last Tuesday when, opium besotted, Homes had wondered why he had trouble finding the hole and had given the woman, a paid Fleet Street harlot, severe internal fabric burns. It had taken a pretty penny given to her to stave off her intended lawsuit and the slander that would surely have followed.At the time, a "Screw the. " For a split second, her hands stiffen, her eyes went wide. Then, she looked away casually."You know her." It was a statement."Never heard of her." Then, smiling at me. "You don't think I'm her, do you?"I did not answer, my voice caught in my throat, hoping beyond hope."Kid, you've got to be kidding. Name's Felicia. Not Helen. Don't know any Helens." She sounded convincing enough as my heart sank into despair again. Not her. Couldn't have been. Hoped too much. This Felicia was too young, too. More

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