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sixteen

Mendoza didn't wake until nearly nine-thirty.

It was going to be another hot day ; ;

already the thermometer stood close to ninety.

Alison was still sound asleep ; ;

he made fresh coffee and searched through all the desk drawers for more cigarettes before thinking of her handbag, and found a crumpled stray cigarette at its bottom, which tasted peculiarly of face powder.

He left a note propped on the desk asking her to call him sometime today, and drove home.