It was nearly 11 o'clock, one mild, foggy night last week, when a squad of cops deployed cautiously around an old, grey, lace-curtained house at 17 Fourth Street in the factory district of Waterbury, Conn. After the guards were set, plainclothesmen walked up the steps and pounded loudly on the front door. The downstairs lights winked on, and stocky, smiling, pajama-clad George Metesky, a 54-year-old bachelor, answered the knock. His two elderly spinster sisters watched warily in the background. George never lost his polite grin. "I think.'' he said after a...
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