The back of the playhouse was solid plywood.I used the screwdriver to chip at the corner where two sheets of plywood met. Before I got through, though... I had a thought. I went back around to the doorway. I reconsidered my spot. I thought it should be a few inches higher than where I'd started. I went back to work.By the time I was done I peered through the narrow hole I'd made and grinned. My vantage provided a narrow but unobstructed view of the sleeping bag from just a foot away. By moving. Normally, I'd let my glance drift from patron to patron, watching them for a few moments, taking in their mannerisms, and trying to come up with "their story" in my head. Was he a banker? Did the older guy realize that the younger woman he was with was eying the bartender speculatively? Were the couple in the corner married, or was she his mistress? Things like that.Last night, however, my attention was captured by a leggy brunette sitting at the end of the bar. She was talking to an equally. More

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