CHAPTER 28The shiny new trailers erupted in wild outcries and a horde of gypsies—men, women and children, converging on Don and his prisoner.
Don yanked Yosef to his feet, prodded him with the shiny new pistol.
“Tell your friends to keep hands off or you’ll get hurt. Tell ’em, quick!”
Yosef shouted orders in some language foreign to Don, submitted meekly to being marched into the garage, his twenty-five-dollar Ambletts’ silk shirt glistening with rain and sweat.
Don noticed the strong fingers, the grimy nails. Were these the hands which had tightened the noose about his neck at Forest Hills?
Sibyl clung to Timmy; the boy wept with relief, punctuating his sniffles with appeals for clemency: “Joe really did save me, Aunt Sib…he hid me in here while they were hunting for me.… I was reall
