I try to call my Great Aunt Doris every day. She's ninety-years old and lives alone. I love her desperately and as she gets older, especially of late as she becomes more feeble, my love seems to be picking up velocity, overwhelming me almost, tinged as it is with panic -- I'm so afraid of losing her.
"I'll wear a flower in my hair or something," Karen Raley says chirpily, "because you'll never recognize me from my mug shot!"She sits in a back booth at Roasters' n Toasters in Aventura. It's her favorite diner, a low-key joint where the bagels are cheap. She doesn't seem to mind that it once employed one of the men who murdered her husband.