As Brody pulled open the glass door, he heard Loeffler say, “… like a goddam dictator, if you ask me. I don’t know what’s his problem.” When he saw Brody, Loeffler blushed. He had been a skinny kid in high school, but as soon as he had taken over his father’s business, he had succumbed to the terrible temptations that surrounded him for twelve hours of every day of every week, and nowadays he looked like a pear.

Brody smiled. “You weren’t talking about me, were you, Paulie?”

“What makes you think that?” said Loeffler, his blush deepening.

“Nothing. Never mind. If you’ll make me a ham and Swiss on rye with mustard, I’ll tell you something that will make you happy.”

“That I have to hear.” Loeffler began to assemble Brody’s sandwich.

“I’m going to open the beaches for the Fourth.”

“That makes me happy.”

“Business bad?”

“Bad.”

“Business is always bad with you.”

“Not like this. If it doesn’t get better soon, I’m gonna be the cause of a race riot.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m supposed to hire two delivery boys for the summer. I’m committed. But I can’t afford two. Let alone I don’t have enough work for two, the way things are. So I can only hire one. One’s white and one’s black.”

“Which one are you hiring?”

“The black one. I figure he needs the money more. I just thank God the white one isn’t Jewish.”

Brody arrived home at 5:10. As he pulled into the driveway, the back door to the house opened, and Ellen ran toward him. She had been crying, and she was still visibly upset.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Thank God you’re home. I tried to reach you at work, but you had already left. Come here. Quick.” She took him by the hand and led him past the back door to the shed where they kept the garbage cans. “In there,” she said, pointing to a can. “Look.”

Brody removed the lid from the can. Lying in a twisted heap atop a bag of garbage was Sean’s cat—a big, husky tom named Frisky. The cat’s head had been twisted completely around, and the yellow eyes overlooked its back.

“How the hell did that happen?” said Brody. “A car?”

“No, a man.” Ellen’s breath came in sobs. “A man did it to him. Sean was right there when it happened. The man got out of a car over by the curb. He picked up the cat and twisted its head until the neck broke. Sean said it made a horrible snap. Then he dropped the cat on the lawn and got back in his car and drove away.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I don’t know. Sean’s inside. He’s hysterical, and I don’t blame him. Martin, what’s happening?”

Brody slammed the top back on the can. “Goddamn sonofabitch!” he said. His throat felt tight, and he clenched his teeth, popping the muscles on both sides of his jaw. “Let’s go inside.”