EYE ON THE PIE: A private eye looks at privatization
I was sitting with my back to the door, watching the deer consume urban gardens, when she entered. “Mr. Marcus?” she asked, in a voice that suggested the lower range of a clarinet. “Yes,” I replied, swiveling in my swivel chair. “You don’t know me,” she said. “My name is Arlene Amour.” “I can understand that,” I said, examining her with my eyes as would an eagle swirling over his prey. I liked what I saw. “I want you to…