“I need another beer,” Kevin said, raising his bottle. “You want one?”
Bill shook his head and ruined another burger. “I’m still working on mine right there. But thanks.”
Kevin headed toward the house, feeling the grease from the platter on his fingertips. Soaking in.
“Hey,” Bill shouted from behind him. Kevin turned.
“Cooler’s over there, remember?” Bill pointed to the corner of the deck.
“I know. But I want to wash my hands before dinner.”
“Make it back quick then. Once I set the platter out, it’s every man for himself.”
Kevin paused at the back door to wipe his feet on the mat before heading inside. In the kitchen, he walked around a group of chattering wives and toward the sink. He washed his hands twice, using soap both times. Through the window, he saw Bill set the platter of hot dogs and burgers on the picnic table, near the buns, condiments, and bowls of chips. Almost immediately flies caught the scent and descended on the feast, buzzing over the food and landing on the burgers. People didn’t seem to care as they formed a crazy line. Instead, they shooed the flies and loaded their plates, pretending that flies weren’t swarming.
Ruined burgers and a cloud of flies.
He and Erin would have done it differently. He wouldn’t have pressed the burgers with the spatula and Erin would have placed the condiments and chips and pickles in the kitchen so people could serve up there, where it was clean. Flies were disgusting and the burgers were as hard as rocks and he wasn’t going to eat them because the thought made him nauseated.
He waited until the platter of burgers had been emptied before heading back outside. He wandered to the table, feigning disappointment.
“I warned you they’d go fast.” Bill beamed. “But Emily’s got another platter in the refrigerator, so it won’t be long until round two. Grab me a beer, would you, while I go get it?”
“Sure,” Kevin said.
When the next batch of burgers was done, Kevin loaded a plate of food and complimented Bill and told him it looked fantastic. Flies were swarming and the burgers were dry and when Bill turned away, Kevin tossed the food into the metal garbage can on the side of the house. He told Bill that the burger tasted fantastic.
He stayed at the barbecue for a couple of hours. He talked with Coffey and Ramirez. They were detectives like him, except they ate the burgers and didn’t care that the flies were swarming. Kevin didn’t want to be the first one to leave, or even the second one, because the captain wanted to pretend he was one of the guys and he didn’t want to offend the captain. He didn’t like Coffey or Ramirez. Sometimes, when Kevin was around, Coffey and Ramirez stopped talking, and Kevin knew they had been talking about him behind his back. Gossips.
But Kevin was a good detective and he knew it. Bill knew it, and so did Coffey and Ramirez. He worked homicide and knew how to talk to witnesses and suspects. He knew when to ask questions and when to listen; he knew when people were lying to him and he put murderers behind bars because the Bible says Thou shalt not kill and he believed in God and he was doing God’s work by putting the guilty in jail.
Back at home, Kevin walked through the living room. He resisted the urge to call for Erin. If Erin had been here, the mantel would have been dusted and the magazines would have fanned out on the end table and there wouldn’t have been an empty bottle of vodka on the couch. If Erin had been here, the drapes would have been opened, allowing the sunlight to stretch across the floorboards. If Erin had been here, the dishes would have been washed and put away and dinner would have been waiting on the table and she would have smiled at him and asked him how his day had gone. Later they would make love because he loved her and she loved him.
Upstairs in the bedroom, he stood at the closet door. He could still catch a whiff of the perfume she’d worn, the one he’d bought her for Christmas. He’d seen her lift a tab on an ad in one of her magazines and smile when she smelled the perfume sample. When she went to bed, he tore the page out of the magazine and tucked it into his wallet so he’d