The playground was empty when the taxi approached and Tony thought the slides and seesaws and swings looked too pristine and unblemished for any self-respecting kid to be having any fun.
He paid the driver and headed for the largest building. Just beyond the door lay a receptionist’s window and just beyond the window lay a receptionist, blond and dour and plump.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Tony cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to the director, please.”
“Concerning what, may I ask?”
“Well, I’m new to the area,” Tony said. “I’ve heard very good things about this place.”
“One moment, please. Your name, sir?”
“Lang. Anthony Lang.”
