” The suitcase loomed in her memory, making its presence felt once again. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Why would Shari tell Michelle or anyone outside the family a name? Why would Michelle ask? In 1965, Sheila McCloskey loved to watch two subjects in particular with binoculars: birds and neighbors. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in.
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