No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. “Believe what, Michelle?” Lucy asked. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior.
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