Dr. Shapiro opened his office door to find Lew Bernstein waiting. A trickle of sweat made its way down Lew’s cheek as Dr. Shapiro let him in.
“I’m sorry, Doc,” Lew said. “It’s an emergency.” He shuffled in and hung his hat on the coat rack as usual.
Dr. Shapiro looked at his Rolex. Six-fifteen. It was his wife’s birthday and they had a reservation at Il Buco at seven. He made his way…