"You better ask Sammy," I suggested.
"Sammy? But why?"
"I don't get it, pop," Sammy said still drinking his coffee.
The other two times I had said nothing. Accidents. You don't accuse your own wife and son of trying to kill you unless you're sure. But the drained brake fluid was no accident. I swept Sammy's coffee cup off the table with my right hand and grabbed the front of his shirt. Sue screamed with surprise as I dragged Sammy to his feet.
"You drained out the brake fluid," I said.
"I don't know what you're talking about, pop. What's the matter with you? You'll rip the shirt!"
"Lay off of him for crying out loud, Frank," Sue cried out.
"Lay off of him," I said, repeating her words and imitating her tone. This always exasperated Sue. She put down her dish rag and came over to me and hollered:
"Well, you haven't said what's the matter."
"I said he drained the brake fluid out of the car. I could have killed myself."