Dora had the morning paper over her head to keep her hair dry. Ted rang the doorbell. This time it was the FBI agent who answered the door."Say Ted, w...zzup?" the black man smiled."Say Francis, any news?" he entered the house. "By the way, I'd like to introduce you to the love of my life. Francis this is Dora, Dora meet Francis." Nice to meet you," they chorused to each other. "Nothing's happening," Francis told Ted."Shit... oops, sorry dear," Ted apologized to his wife. She just nodded. "Uh.... So far, so good. He stole from the room, prowling down the stairs like he was gumshoeing, and made his way to the kitchen. Mona had left a pot of coffee on the stove and the Cincinnati Enquirer on the table. The smell of apple butter and maple syrup lingered in the air. Sitting at the kitchen table with his belly full of vittles, sipping fresh java and pedaling through a morning newspaper, worked on a man’s sense of belonging. Careful Gafferson, Moe thought, wincing and glancing back up to the. More

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