said looking at the couch. When we’d been a couple, we’d spent a lot of time sitting there together. The idea of sitting there now felt strange and uncomfortable. I just wanted to drink my tea fast and escape.
“Let’s sit outside,” I said, making an abrupt turn. Barry followed me through the kitchen and out the door.
The yard was filled with the night sounds of crickets chirping and birds calling to each other. My gardenia plant was covered with creamy white blossoms and they filled the air with their heady scent. The floodlights along the back of the house illuminated the patio area and I noticed that Barry still seemed a little stiff as he lowered himself into one of the patio chairs. Above us the sky was midnight blue and the full moon peeked through the orange trees.
“It’s nice out here,” he said setting the mug of aromatic tea on the small glass table between our chairs. He stretched his leg into a more comfortable position. I asked where Jeffrey was and he said he’d gone to bed.
In a certain way, Jeffrey had benefitted from his father being laid up. Barry’d had to let go a little and his fourteen-year-old son had started using his bike for transportation. Jeffrey loved the freedom of getting around the area on his own. I might have kept my distance from Barry, but Jeffrey kept me up-to-date on what was going on in his life.
“The important thing is that you’re better. It looks like it’s all healed up.” I glanced toward his outstretched leg. “I’m sure you’re anxious to move back home and get on with your life. So, what do you think it will be? A few days, a week?”
Was it my imagination or did Barry’s expression falter. “I don’t have an exact date. I’m still getting physical therapy and I’m not feeling ready to tackle all those stairs.” As if to make his point, he moved his leg and seemed to feel a twinge of pain. “But if we’ve overstayed our welcome, I’ll try to make some other arrangements.”
“No, no. Stay until you can run up and down the stairs,” I said. I wanted him to go, but at the same time I didn’t want to push him out while he was still healing. What difference did a little more time make, anyway? I drained my cup and prepared to make my exit.
Before I could say anything along the lines of good night, Barry laid the binder he’d been carrying under his arm on the table. “It’s the murder book for one of the old cases I’m working on.” He’d never even mentioned a murder book before, let alone put one in front of me. We both stared at it for a moment before he invited me to have a look.
I’d become a bit of an amateur sleuth and happened on a number of bodies, but I wasn’t prepared for the photos. I guess I’d been lucky, the bodies I’d encountered hadn’t been that gory. I gasped at the photo of a man’s body sprawled in a pool of blood.
“That’s from a murder five years ago. There were no suspects and it seemed like a home-invasion robbery gone bad. The guy worked at a liquor store. He did a lot of deliveries. The girlfriend said he didn’t have any enemies, and that all the customers liked him and sometimes invited him to join the events he’d delivered for.”
Part of me wanted to close the book and go inside. But I couldn’t stop looking at the photograph. I noticed a band of skin on his wrist that was lighter than the rest of it. “It looks like they got his watch,” I said.
Barry smiled. “Very good, babe, I mean, Molly. The girlfriend said he’d recently gotten a fancy watch. She wasn’t very good about listing what was missing. She thought some household goods had also been taken. The only thing she did say was that something had happened to change things for the guy. He had never given her details, just that he’d recently had some kind of uptick in his life. And that he’d also recently purchased a gun.” I gazed at the picture again and noticed something odd on the carpet. It looked like a plastic juice bottle, but there was black tape around the mouth and the bottom seemed to be missing. There was a plastic number next to it, I knew they used to mark evidence. I asked