She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw set in a hard line.

“I’ve lived in this building for twenty-two years,” she said. “Nobody has ever threatened me like that.”

Carl looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, then looked back at the two tenants.

“We need to get this down in writing,” Carl said.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Alvarez asked, looking up.

“We need affidavits,” I explained, stepping closer. “Legal statements of exactly what he did and said.”

“Will you two come down to my place?” Carl asked. “We can write them out right now.”

“I’ll come,” Mrs. Patterson said immediately. “I want that bully out of our home.”

Mr. Alvarez nodded slowly, his eyes still wide with a lingering fear.

“Yes,” the old man said. “I will help you, Carl.”

We walked down the stairs to the small basement apartment where Carl was temporarily staying.

The radiator in the corner clanked against the wall, sending up a steady hiss of warm steam.

I found a yellow legal pad and a black ballpoint pen on the kitchen table.