When I arrived at the Birch Street Nursing Home this morning, Mrs. Lieberman was not at the poker table. I was about to ask Mrs. Henley if she knew where she might be when I heard some banging down in my basement laboratory. As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Mrs. Lieberman pounding on the metal briefcase with some of my laboratory tools. There were several dents in it, but when she saw me, she stopped and told me she was having trouble destroying the case. And she said she was getting tired. I offered to take over the job for her, but after a moment, she said it would be easier for me to just throw the case in the dumpster behind the grocery store on my way home. She placed it in a black garbage bag, and this afternoon as I was leaving the Birch Street Nursing Home, she reminded me not to let anyone see what was inside.
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