On a few occasions, Moe had wanted to, and Jonas Kreimer would listen. Jonas was a stout man with thick forearms and smooth hands. Laugh lines dug int... his face like grooves on a Victrola. When he talked, his bristly mustache wiggled like a caterpillar. Moe could never be sure if Jonas was happy in spite of living alone or because of it. But one thing was certain: Jonas Kreimer knew everyone that still resided in the old German neighborhood, and that was why Moe stopped in. ‘Hallo, Jonas.’ ‘Wie. And Mrs. Hayward,” Wendy proudly announced, gripping his hand.“Congratulations on your wedding,” the woman replied, her eyes trying to politely avoid Wendy’s deep cleavage. “Please follow me to your table.” They followed her hand in hand through the elegantly decorated room.People engrossed in conversation would pause to look at the sensually dressed figure of the passing woman. Whispers were exchanged amongst patrons about the man who looked so famous. It wasn’t unusual for the hotel to host. More

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