Nothing like a confrontation in a stairwell to move the narrative along. I think I'm actually managing real interpersonal tension in this book, and not brittle, prickly characters yelling at each other for no reason other than to simulate tension. Which is, of course, always a concern.
Today, we met the Private Dick. And the Lady Poetess From Hell.
Also, apparently Thelonious Monk is the music this book needs to be written to. Surprisingly enough.