I found Michael working on his car. Or, more specifically, I found him holding some kind of power sander and staring at his car with a diabolical expression. “Judd let you play with the power tools?” I asked. Michael turned the sander on and off experimentally, then he smiled. “Judd is a man of discerning tastes and good sense.” “Meaning that Judd doesn’t know that you’re playing with the power tools,” I concluded. “I’m going to have to plead the Fifth on that one,” Michael told me.
