“You felt people in Gerritsen Beach didn’t like outsiders. There was no subway stop, only a single bus line. Under a greasy sky, it seemed inward-turning, apart from the rest of the city, almost sullen in its isolation. I found Shank’s house, and the woman who answered the door looked blank when I told her my name. She was Russian. The one time I’d been at Shank’s house, I hadn’t seen her, or couldn’t remember her. She didn’t react to me, but maybe she was covering it up. Her hair tied up in a s...carf, holding a dishtowel, Mrs Shank – she said she was Mrs Shank – told me Stan wasn’t in. But she held open the door and I went in. Mrs Shank was friendly enough, which made me wary. She asked me to wait while she went in the kitchen and found the name of the bar where Stan was catching a game with some of his pals. She closed the door to the kitchen behind her, and I could hear the faint sound of her talking into the phone, very low, very intense. In the living room where I waited was an expensive flat screen fifty-four-inch TV that hung on the wall, and silky covers on the furniture that stood on a deep pile emerald green nylon carpet.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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