Very large hands found Milgrim’s shoulders, pressed down. "Thank you for waiting," said a deep, measured voice, "but we aren’t detectives." Milgrim looked over at the hand on his left shoulder. It was enormous, a black man’s hand, with pink, glossily polished nails. Milgrim rolled his eyes, craning his neck gingerly, and saw, atop a vast bluff of button-studded black horsehide, a mighty black chin, perfectly shaven.