of the woman who donated the fountain to the city of Chicago. By day, the fountain’s main jet shot one hundred fifty feet into the air, a tower of water between the expanse of Lake Michigan and the expanse of downtown Chicago.
But it was late now, and the jets had been turned off for the night. The park was officially closed, but that didn’t stop a handful of stragglers from walking around the fountain or perching on the steps that led down to Lake Shore Drive to take in the view of the dark and gleaming waters of Lake Michigan.
I checked my watch. It was eight minutes after midnight. I was