She tackled their bedroom first, going through Mr. Diamonte's closet and then hers. She went through the stacks of old magazines on their bed tables and then through the shelves and the drawers.

Mrs. Diamonte buzzed through the bathrooms throwing out old dried out soaps and near-empty bottles of shampoos and cream rinse and rusty razor blades wrapped up in toilet tissue.

Then she went through Debbie's and afterwards, Danny's bedrooms and hauled out seventeen bags to throw out.