My phone rang.
"Mr. Wylie? This is Mr. Harrison—at the desk." He sounded upset. He's a nice guy—the assistant manager.
I said, "Yes."
His sigh seemed relieved. "Would you mind looking out your window? A woman has just come into the lobby who says there's a man in shirt sleeves sitting on the parapet."
"There is," I said. "It's my nephew, Paul Wilson."
Mr. Harrison laughed uneasily. "Pretty dangerous—"
I glanced at Paul. He was staring straight down again. "He's on the verge of jumping."
"Jumping!"
"And I can't get near enough to grab him. Whatever you do in a case like this—for God's sake start doing it quick! Only—if anybody tries to snatch him and he knows it—he'll probably go."