Dick and Mike sit at the kitchen table playing two-handed rummy. Dick is drinking whiskey. Mike is drinking beer. He grunts every so often when he lays down his cards, but other than that they aren’t talking.
The phone rings, making all of us jump.
Margaret goes to the wall and picks up the receiver.
“Flahertys,” she says, exactly in the way we all had been taught to answer this phone. “Margaret speaking.”
I wonder if she does that at her own house.
“Yes,” she says, and hangs up. “That was the coroner. We need to go pick up dad.”