Virginia Quarterly Review Magazine April 2010Apr 10, 2010
On a beautiful afternoon in February, in the west end of Miami’s Little Haiti, Max Rameau and I were having trouble finding the next house on his list, though we did notice one that had potential: small, stucco, sort of a Spanish colonial, beat-up but solid on the outside. From the street we could see over the low front patio, straight through the front windows to the kitchen in the back, and even the yard beyond. Clearly it was empty. “Plus, it’s got a lockbox,” I said.
“But the evens are on this side,” Rameau said.
We looked up and down the street.
“They’ve all got lockboxes,” I said.
He yanked the handbrake. “This is how it happens. We go to look for a place, and we find three.”...