Chapter 18

“Out.” I pointed to the kitchen door. “I’ll break one of your limbs if you don’t leave.”

To my surprise, he left.

Miller walked to the door and opened it. Cold air blew into the house. He said over his right shoulder, “We’re ot mun,” which I translated as we’re not done.

I believed him. I had to. God only knew when he would arrive at the Tudor again, unexpectedly and with a strong dose of rage in his belly, prepared to battle me. 13: Detective Bobby Carlton

March 17

I showed a house to a young, gay couple who had their first-time buyer hearts set on living inside Bakery Square, owning a two-bedroom shoebox of a Tudor, and being social with their middle-class neighbors. Everyone knew Bakery Square had recently been dubbed Pittsburgh’s Soho. The units were small, the gays snappy, and the yards immaculate, most of which were cared for on Saturday afternoons by their owners.

Casey and Martin, both professors at Pitt, wanted to put a bid in for 939 Bakery Square.