Charm City

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I am fortunate to work at a place where my generous colleagues and conscientious editors bear little resemblance to the workers at the oh-so-fictional newspaper in this book. In particular, I am indebted to the following co-workers for their help and technical advice: Joan Jacobson, Mike James, Peter Hermann, Arthur Hirsch, Jon Morgan, Mike Littwin, Dan Rodricks, Kate Shatzkin, and William F. Zorzi. Any errors, deliberate and otherwise, are mine. Special thanks to Johnny Ketchum, king of the Baltimore malaprops.

I also want to thank Spike and Dulcie for their expert contributions.

Nothing wet was falling out of the sky. No snow, no ice, no hail, no rain changing to sleet, no sleet changing to rain. And that was reason enough, Tess Monaghan decided, to feel celebratory. She would walk home from work instead of taking her usual bus, maybe stop at Bertha's and squinch up her nose at the tourists eating mussels, or nurse something warm and alcoholic at Henniger's. A March Monday night in Baltimore would never be Mardi Gras, or even Lundi Gras, but it could have its moments, for savvy natives inclined to seek them out. Tess was inclined. For the first time in more than two years, she had a full-time job and a full-time boyfriend. Her life might not have the party-all-the-time euphoria of a beer commercial, but it was definitely edging into International Coffee territory.

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