“Saturday. The kids were probably already up and arguing about what TV show to watch. Richard, if our nearly twenty years of marriage had any bearing on his current habits, was sitting in his recliner, sucking down a pot of coffee, and growling at the headlines of whatever morning newspaper still existed. Richard was not a morning person. Sipping at the travel mug of tea I’d brewed before leaving the house, I got out of the car. It was a chai tea, spicy with cardamom, cinnamon, and ginger. B...ut even the pepper that gave it a hint of heat didn’t do a thing to mask the smell coming from Dennis Halpern’s former offices. It was that burned-over smell you got from a campfire the morning after a beach party, only magnified a hundred times. A small breeze pushed the sour scent onto my face and I revised the number to a thousand. The faint sound of footsteps turned me around. I started to say “Good morning,” but didn’t get beyond the first consonant because no one was in sight.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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