CHAPTER TWELVE
The cool air gently washed over us as we walked down the busy sidewalk in West Hartford Center. It was a very sunny late spring day, and many families were taking advantage of the weather to go shopping. Alexander held my hand tenderly as we made our way past young sweat-stained ladies in baseball caps walking their dogs, groups of teenagers munching on ice-cream cones, and businessmen in dress suits and ties, hurrying to gobble down their sandwiches. We walked past a greeting-card store on Farmington Avenue that caught my eye. It had the façade of an old German house bordering the top edges of the building. Brown lines crossed over a beige background, and there appeared to be seven gables on the roof. I gazed into the window and was saddened to find the shop empty. Alexander confirmed that the store had recently closed due to a lack of business.
We took a quick peek down LaSalle Road, the next street over. Several bustling restaurants greeted us as we ambled down the hectic pavement. There was a Jewish delicatessen, a Japanese sushi bar, and a hip new burger joint. There were jewelry stores, high-end clothing boutiques, and several large banks. As I crossed the hustling boulevard, I spotted a familiar figure in the middle of the street directing traffic. To my surprise, I saw it was my old foe, Paulie Dante. We had complained to the West Hartford Police Department regarding