The Cold Case
I’m sure he killed my aunt. There’s no way she would’ve have killed herself and left him my cousins.
Tilly’s
I could see him as he talked. The mouth surrounded by the scraggly beard, moving at a thousand miles an hour. Him walking and talking at the same time since he never sat for too long in any one place. Medium height, medium build, and large hands with fingers, which had been broken years ago. The hands hid the story of a man feared by many when he was much younger.
If you ever want the Ellis Island experience circa 1907, swing into the Chicago City Clerk’s office in Portage Park. The number of different accents is loads of fun and reminds you of the shared American Experience, which is that city bureaucracy is no fun for any of us.