My electrician came down the stairs holding something wrapped in a greasy shop rag. His face was white. “Ma’am, how many people have keys to this house?” I said only my son. He unwrapped the rag,…
The first thing I noticed was the way Rick Halpern came down the stairs. Slow, one step at a time, like he was choosing his words before he hit the bottom. He was holding something wrapped in a blue shop rag, stained with machine oil. He set it on my kitchen table, right next to … Read more