San Francisco, 1940. There was no question it was her. At first glance, I thought her to be no more than thirty-five, but the more I looked the more uncertain I was. One sure thing was that she was all woman. A woman who was glad to be female in every sense. This woman would never be seen in jeans or sweaters or flat heels. Only the most elegant outfits at all times would suffice. And the most feminine. She was just my ty...

San Francisco, October 31st. 1941. Just when it seemed that the night had been a waste of time, HE walked into the club. The hour was close to midnight as Lucy stubbed out her seventh cigarette of the evening and put her holder away in her clutch. He had a handsome enough face and looked to be about two hundred pounds, give or take. She had studied all the single men who had come and gone for the last three hours and had...