I say, but my voice trails off. I wasn’t expecting to see my onetime friend standing outside my door. My onetime friend who’d just discovered his wife had been brutally murdered. I’ve dealt with grieving families before, yes. But rarely someone so close to me.
He nods sadly.
“Come in,” I say.
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
“How you holding up?” I say lamely as I shut the door behind him, my brain not quite firing right. Then again, what the hell else am I supposed to say?
Eddie is running his fingers through hair that seems a bit greasy. In fact, he looks like a royal mess. No surprise there. His wife had been found murdered just a few days earlier, her throat slit. Jesus, it is amazing he is even cognizant.
“I’m okay, I guess,” he says. He seems to lose his train of thought, blinks once, twice, looks at me again, and then says, “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
I’m touched. Eddie seems to have done a complete one-eighty with me, from ignoring me to checking in on my health. Then again, my health has a direct bearing to me being able to work on this case.
I lead him into my living room and for some reason, I wish he didn’t have to look at my easels. My puzzle. My case. But he does see everything as he takes a seat. From the couch, he can’t quite see everything, but he understands that I am working.
I stand in front of the easel with Olivia’s details. I am not aware if Eddie has seen his wife’s photos or not. They’re not a pretty sight and certainly no way to remember a loved one. I see the tears in his eyes. Too late. He’s seen them. He finally looks away, collects himself.
“You are working on the case,” he says.
“Hard as I can,” I say.
He nods, fighting the tears. The tears aren’t for me. They are for the woman he had created a life with, a woman he struggled with, a woman he often fought with. A woman whose murdered body is presently on display behind me.
“I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”
“Probably never going to be a good time, Eddie. Not anymore.”
He looks at me for a long time. “It’s good to see you, Jimmy.”
“What’s left of me.”
“You look, um, good.”
I laugh. Why I find my failing health funny, I don’t know. But I know Eddie’s sense of humor and it gets to me. With the exception of Numi, Eddie probably knows me best. At least he did back when I was healthy. Back when I didn’t know who my true friends were. Now I do, and Eddie isn’t one of them. Not anymore.
“I look like shit, but thanks for sparing my feelings.”
Eddie smiles weakly, not really hearing me. He’s lost in his own grief. His lower jaw suddenly quivers. “I don’t know how to go on, Jimmy.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say to him.
“I don’t know how to recover from this. I feel broken. I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do.”
“Finding this asshole is a start,” I say.
He nods, waits, and then nods again. “Yes, I suppose so. Then what?”
“We’ll take it one step at a time.”
“One step,” he says. He then looks around me at the pictures of his slaughtered wife. “Where do you think she went, Jimmy?”
“What do you mean?”
“That part of her that’s Olivia. Not this… this physical husk.”
I’d never heard of a human body referred to as a physical husk, but I play along. “Somewhere better than here, let’s hope.”
“Is that what you hope for when your time comes, Jimmy?”
The question is more personal than I am prepared for. But I am game. I have thought long and hard about where I might go, if anywhere. “Yes,” I answer. “That’s what I hope.”
“Somewhere better than here?”
“Yes.”
“Is here so bad?”
I think about his question as I feel my body losing strength. I finally sit next to him, stepping away from the easels. “It’s not so bad, Eddie. But it could be better.”
He nods, and when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Better, yes.”
“Where do you think
He nods sadly.
“Come in,” I say.
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
“How you holding up?” I say lamely as I shut the door behind him, my brain not quite firing right. Then again, what the hell else am I supposed to say?
Eddie is running his fingers through hair that seems a bit greasy. In fact, he looks like a royal mess. No surprise there. His wife had been found murdered just a few days earlier, her throat slit. Jesus, it is amazing he is even cognizant.
“I’m okay, I guess,” he says. He seems to lose his train of thought, blinks once, twice, looks at me again, and then says, “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
I’m touched. Eddie seems to have done a complete one-eighty with me, from ignoring me to checking in on my health. Then again, my health has a direct bearing to me being able to work on this case.
I lead him into my living room and for some reason, I wish he didn’t have to look at my easels. My puzzle. My case. But he does see everything as he takes a seat. From the couch, he can’t quite see everything, but he understands that I am working.
I stand in front of the easel with Olivia’s details. I am not aware if Eddie has seen his wife’s photos or not. They’re not a pretty sight and certainly no way to remember a loved one. I see the tears in his eyes. Too late. He’s seen them. He finally looks away, collects himself.
“You are working on the case,” he says.
“Hard as I can,” I say.
He nods, fighting the tears. The tears aren’t for me. They are for the woman he had created a life with, a woman he struggled with, a woman he often fought with. A woman whose murdered body is presently on display behind me.
“I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”
“Probably never going to be a good time, Eddie. Not anymore.”
He looks at me for a long time. “It’s good to see you, Jimmy.”
“What’s left of me.”
“You look, um, good.”
I laugh. Why I find my failing health funny, I don’t know. But I know Eddie’s sense of humor and it gets to me. With the exception of Numi, Eddie probably knows me best. At least he did back when I was healthy. Back when I didn’t know who my true friends were. Now I do, and Eddie isn’t one of them. Not anymore.
“I look like shit, but thanks for sparing my feelings.”
Eddie smiles weakly, not really hearing me. He’s lost in his own grief. His lower jaw suddenly quivers. “I don’t know how to go on, Jimmy.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say to him.
“I don’t know how to recover from this. I feel broken. I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do.”
“Finding this asshole is a start,” I say.
He nods, waits, and then nods again. “Yes, I suppose so. Then what?”
“We’ll take it one step at a time.”
“One step,” he says. He then looks around me at the pictures of his slaughtered wife. “Where do you think she went, Jimmy?”
“What do you mean?”
“That part of her that’s Olivia. Not this… this physical husk.”
I’d never heard of a human body referred to as a physical husk, but I play along. “Somewhere better than here, let’s hope.”
“Is that what you hope for when your time comes, Jimmy?”
The question is more personal than I am prepared for. But I am game. I have thought long and hard about where I might go, if anywhere. “Yes,” I answer. “That’s what I hope.”
“Somewhere better than here?”
“Yes.”
“Is here so bad?”
I think about his question as I feel my body losing strength. I finally sit next to him, stepping away from the easels. “It’s not so bad, Eddie. But it could be better.”
He nods, and when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Better, yes.”
“Where do you think
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