She was maybe five-six, with hair like copper and brass melted together by the sun, and great big beautiful blue eyes. She was brown, deeply bronzed by the sun, and from her tiny waist and flat stomach clean lines curved that had me going in circles. Boy. For once in my life I was really traveling in the right circles. She breathed and I nearly fainted. Mr. Scott, she said softly. I'm so glad you came. I know I didn't make much sense on the phone, but when someone's tried to kill you twice, it's hard to sound intelligible. She did that damn breathing bit again.

1955.