Luna realized that her description of Sam was not helping his case. “Look, I gave you Sam’s toothbrush because I knew you’d want his DNA. And I knew you’d have to look at him for this. Still, I don’t think Sam did it.”
Again, her conviction weakened the more she insisted upon it.
“Noted,” Goldman said.
“Does this mean you’re done looking at Owen?”
Goldman leaned back in his chair and looked Luna in the eye. People don’t look you in the eye all that often. It can unsettle someone who doesn’t want to be seen. But this time it didn’t have the desired effect. Goldman felt like she was seeing him instead. Maybe it was the dim lighting. It had that strangely charged feeling of a first date. He immediately looked away and asked the first question that came to mind.
“Would you rather our prime suspect be your husband or your best friend?”
“I’d rather it be neither,” Luna said.
“But if you had to choose—”
“Come on, Detective.”
Goldman raised his hands, conceding the unfairness of the challenge. “Indulge my curiosity for a moment,” Goldman said.
Luna nodded, bracing herself for the usual questions.
“Given Owen’s history, have you considered the possibility?”
“It’s not a pattern, Detective. A lousy coincidence, maybe.”
“Maybe,” Goldman said. “But if you were me, wouldn’t you look twice?”
“Maybe,” Luna said. “If you’re looking at patterns, you should know something.”
* * *
—
When Sam unlocked his front door, he fully expected to find his wife at home. The visit to his mother in Philadelphia was really just a brief reprieve from Irene’s death and his domestic life. He hadn’t had time to think about Irene or allow himself to feel something.
Sam announced his arrival. There was no answer, but he had a powerful sense of not being alone. He heard labored breaths first. Then he saw the dog. It was just sitting on his couch, breathing. It frightened Sam. He stepped back. The dog didn’t move. Sam called Luna’s name, but she didn’t answer. Sam was not a dog person. He didn’t know what to do. He stood in his living room, staring at the animal for about a minute or so. He’d remember the moment as being much longer.
At some point, he realized that the dog wasn’t going to attack. He walked in slow motion over to the refrigerator and poured a strong Bloody Mary. Sam knew that it was only a matter of time before the police found out about him and Irene.
Sam heard someone fumbling with the lock. He assumed it was Luna. He guzzled his liquid courage, searching for the right words. She was really having some trouble with that key. He assumed she was drunk. He checked the time. It was just past two. It was early for Luna to be stumblingly drunk. The dog jumped off the couch and ran down the hall.
Then Sam heard a man’s voice call his name.
“Owen?” Sam said, because what other man would be calling his name?
Sam peered into the hallway and spotted a strange man kneeling in his foyer patting the strange dog.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sam said.
Griff startled and rolled onto his backside. Sam the dog wagged his tail, thinking that Griff wanted to play. He jumped on top of his owner and licked Griff’s face.
“Shit. Sorry. I thought the house was empty,” Griff said.
“Doesn’t answer my question,” Sam said.
Griff was surprised that Luna had married a man like that. Granted, their first introduction wasn’t under the best of circumstances, but Griff’s first read was that he was a hard motherfucker.
Recovering from his surprise and quickly getting to his feet, Griff said, “So sorry. I drove Luna to the police station, and she told me to leave the keys in the house.”
“Again. Who are you?”
“Right. I’m Griff, Owen’s brother. Here for the…wake?”
Griff read Sam’s expression. He sensed something, an internal calculation.
“You’re Griff,” Sam said.
“Yep,” Griff said. “Would you like to see some ID?”
“No,” said Sam, who wasn’t just looking at Griff, he was studying him.
Griff dropped the car keys on the kitchen island and started to back away, like you would with a wild animal. “Sam, right?” said Griff.
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
“Nice to meet you,” Griff said. “Again, I’m really sorry.”
“Huh,” said Sam. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”
It seemed odd in light of Griff and Owen’s relationship and Griff and Luna’s non-relationship that Luna’s husband would have heard much, or anything, about him. But Griff wanted to leave, so he didn’t ask for clarification.
“Well, thanks,” Griff said.
“For what?” Sam said.
Griff shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head, exhausted. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding defeated.
“I’m being weird, aren’t I?” Sam said.
Luna had told him on one of their first dates that he had an extremely cold conversational style. She’d likened him to HAL from 2001. Sam had been amused by the comparison, or by Luna’s bluntness. He would be less amused now if he knew how often Luna and Owen mocked his affectless tone.
“A little,” Griff answered. “No judgment. A strange man just broke into your home.”
Sam nodded, agreeing. “She told me about you once,” said Sam.
“Good things?” Griff said.
Sam’s eyes squinted in confusion, then amusement. “You broke her fucking heart, man. No. Not that good.”
Griff had backed all the way to the front door. His phone rang in his pocket, visibly startling him. “I gotta go,” Griff said.
“Don’t forget the dog,” Sam said.
* * *
—
Sam was fairly drunk when Luna returned from her third police interview. He showed no obvious signs of inebriation. A layman would never know. But Luna recognized the way his face relaxed, the jaw muscle resting, the molars taking a break from their constant grind.