exit that led to his former home. The road led through pine trees to a bluff that looked across toward Whidbey Island. The motel had gone for the log cabin style, which Alex thought looked ridiculous on a building as large as the one that housed the reception, bar and restaurant. But the individual cabins set back in a row at the edge of the trees were attractive enough. Paul, whose cabin was next to Alex's, left him to unpack. "I'll see you in the bar in half an hour, OK?"
Alex hung up his funeral suit and shirt, leaving the rest of his clothes in the suitcase. He'd spent most of the transcontinental flight sketching, and he tore out the one sheet he was satisfied with and propped it up against the mirror. Ziggy stared out at him in three-quarter profile, a crooked smile creasing his eyes. Not a bad likeness from memory, Alex thought sadly. He checked his watch. Almost midnight at home. Lynn wouldn't mind the lateness of the hour. He dialed the number. Their short conversation eased the sharpness of the grief that had threatened to overwhelm him momentarily.
Alex ran a basin of cold water and dashed it over his face. Feeling slightly more alert, he trudged across to the bar, its Christmas decorations seeming incongruous in the face of his sadness. Johnny Mathis crooned saccharine in the background and Alex wanted to muffle the speakers as horses hooves had once been muffled in funeral processions. He found Paul in a booth nursing a bottle of Pyramid ale. He signaled to the barman for another of the same and slid in opposite Paul. Now he had the chance to look at him properly, he could see the signs of strain and grief. Paul's light brown hair was rumpled and unwashed, his blue eyes weary and red-rimmed. A patch of stubble under his left ear showed uncharacteristic carelessness in a man who was always neat and tidy.
"I called Lynn," he said. "She was asking after you."
"She's got a good heart," Paul said. "I feel like I got to know her a lot better this year. It seemed like being pregnant made her open up more."
"I know what you mean. I thought she'd be paralyzed with anxiety throughout this pregnancy. But she's been really relaxed." Alex's drink arrived.
Paul raised his glass. "Let's drink to the future," he said. "Right now, I don't feel like it has much to offer, but I know Ziggy would give me hell for dwelling in the past."
"To the future," Alex echoed. He swallowed a mouthful of beer and said, "How are you holding up?"
Paul shook his head. "I don't think it's hit me yet. There's been so much to take care of. Letting people know, making the funeral arrangements and stuff. Which reminds me. Your friend Tom, the one Ziggy called Weird? He's coming in tomorrow."
The news provoked a mixed reaction from Alex. Part of him longed for the connection to his past that Weird would provide. Part of him acknowledged the unease that still wriggled inside him when he recalled the night Rosie Duff died. And part of him dreaded the aggravation Weird would trail in his wake if he went off on his fundamentalist homophobia. "He's not going to preach at the funeral, is he?"
"No. We're having a humanist service. But Ziggy's friends will have the opportunity to get up and talk about him. If Tom wants to say something then, he's welcome."
Alex groaned. "You know he's a fundamentalist bigot who preaches hellfire and damnation?"
Paul gave a wry smile. "He should be careful. It's not just the South that does lynch mobs."
"I'll have a word with him beforehand." Which would be about as effective as a twig in the path of a runaway train, Alex thought.
They sipped their beers in silence for a few minutes. Then Paul cleared his throat and said, "There's something I need to tell you, Alex. It's about the fire."
Alex looked puzzled. "The fire?"
Paul massaged the bridge of his nose. "The fire wasn't an accident, Alex. It was set. Deliberately."
"Are they sure?"
Paul sighed. "They've had arson investigators crawling all over the place ever since it cooled down enough."
"But that's terrible. Who would do something like that to Ziggy?"
"Alex, I'm the cops' first pick."
"But that's insane. You loved Ziggy."
"Which is exactly why I'm the prime suspect. They always look at the spouse first, right?" Paul's tone was harsh.
Alex shook his head. "Nobody who knew you two would entertain that