She sat silent, perhaps on hold while Vinnie’s secretary found out where he was and whether he would want to see Chrissie. He could be anywhere—looking at loan applicants out on a building site, or given U.S. Met’s clientele, a juice operation. Fortunately for me he turned out to be in the building and willing to see his sweet, helpful neighbor.

The receptionist directed me to a row of elevators artfully hidden behind some columns. I rode to the fourth floor, checked with the receptionist there, and was sent into the inner recesses of the bank.

The green-and-gold splendor of the lobby was carried out in muted tones in the building’s upper reaches: green plush—with a thin pile as befit the junior level of management that trod it,—and walls covered in a gold fabric-board. A few bright prints on the walls drew the eye and made the long corridor seem lighter.

Most of the office doors stood open, revealing a phalanx of sincere young men in shirtsleeves and ties talking on the phone. Vinnie’s office, near the end of the hall, was shut. I knocked below the prim black label identifying him as an assistant vice president of commercial lending.

“Chrissie, hi. Come on over here … I thought we’d be more comfortable—” I turned at the sound of Vinnie’s voice, coming from an open conference room catty-corner to his office. When he recognized me his round face looked glassy with surprise, then shattered into anger.

“You! What are you doing here? I ought to call security—”

“I came to see you, Vinnie. Being as how we’re neighbors and we all want to do the neighborly thing for each other on North Racine.” I shut the door behind me and helped myself to one of the fake wicker chairs.

“I want that door open. I’m expecting someone, and anyway, I don’t want you in the bank.”

“You’re expecting Chrissie Pichea, but you’re getting me.” I smiled. “I gave them her name downstairs—it seemed like the easiest way to get up here. You and I have so much to talk about I just didn’t think I could wait until tonight.”

He looked from me to the door, then at a phone in the corner of the small room. “I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m calling the bank security people and you can explain yourself to the Chicago cops. If you haven’t bought off all of them.” He took his heavy gold watch from his wrist and laid it ostentatiously on the table in front of him.