“Were you always allergic?”
“We moved to Canada when I was sixteen. She got two ferrets a few months later. She kept them in the basement back then and we had a system. I could manage. But then my aunt and uncle in Seattle invited me for a visit. They didn’t have any kids. Or ferrets. It was easier to finish school in the States. My mother didn’t argue.”
“So, your mom knew you had this allergy and she still got more ferrets?”
“I haven’t lived with her in years. It didn’t really matter how many she had.”
Luna placed a blanket from home on top of the bed and began organizing the spread. Griff uncorked the wine and poured two cups. He handed one to Luna and raised it for a toast.
“To this feast,” Griff said.
“To Motel 6,” Luna said.
“To ferret-free air,” said Griff.
“To my inhaler,” said Luna.
“To not having to stab you with an EpiPen.”
“Yet,” said Luna.
They tapped cups and drank.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Luna. “I’m sorry it was so weird. I did warn you.”
Griff didn’t respond right away. His brain snagged on a detail he couldn’t reconcile. “I’m confused,” he said.
Luna knew what confused him, but she didn’t feel like spelling it out. If his worldview prevented him from arriving at the obvious conclusion, wasn’t it for the best? Luna built a small army of cheese-salami-olive crackers and delivered them to Griff, who deconstructed Luna’s perfect stacks and ate the cheese and crackers first, then the olive-salami combo.
“You’re eating it wrong,” Luna said.
“Can we revisit the ferret experience briefly?” Griff said.
“What about it?”
“Remember the first two ferrets I met—your mom called them your brother and sister?”
“They’re not actually my brother and sister. You get that, right?” Luna said, deadpan.
“Yes. But are they brother and sister?”
“I think so. If I remember correctly, they were the last two in a litter.”
“And she named sibling ferrets after the lovers Lysander and Hermia? That’s weird, right?”
“They’ve been fixed if that makes you feel any better,” Luna said.
“It does. Sorry. I won’t mention them again.”
“Good,” Luna said.
A few minutes later, Griff finally pieced it all together.
“Oh, I see,” Griff said. “She doesn’t want you to visit.”
* * *
—
Ferrets and falls were the theme of the holiday. The falls part did not disappoint. In fact, it more than made up for the disastrous ferret segment. Griff finally understood why Luna insisted they visit Niagara on the return trip. When you stood out on the walkway, gazing at Horseshoe Falls, at the overwhelming power of it, your own thoughts didn’t matter. It was cleansing, in its way.
They walked up and down the promenade for hours in the bitter cold. It was too incredible to step away. Eventually they needed to warm up. Griff had booked the hotel. When they entered the room, Luna saw that it had a full view of the falls.
Griff ordered room service while Luna stood in front of the window, feeling so happy it started to turn on her. Happiness could easily shift gears into guilt or shame. She was on the precipice of the shift. Griff could see it happening. He stood next to Luna, put his arm around her.
“You think it’s just going to be bullshit, a cliché, a tourist trap from hell,” he said. “And yet it’s—”
“It’s all that and still the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see,” said Luna.
“You want to stay another night?” Griff asked.
“Do you?”
“I could stay here forever,” he said.
October 15, 2019
Burns was still mulling over her interview with Oslo when she arrived at the station the next morning. Goldman’s jacket was on his chair, but his desk was vacant. She found her partner in an unlit video room, staring at a frozen screen. On the monitor was a blurry image of Sam Burroughs in a hospital corridor.
“Have you alibied the doctor?” Burns asked.
“Not yet. We have him on camera at ten-thirty a.m. in the hospital corridor but nothing earlier.”
“How’d he get into the building?”
“There’s an entrance in back. I’m assuming he used that. Unfortunately, security is having trouble locating a file for Monday morning. That’s either good luck or bad luck for the doc,” Goldman said.
Margot sank into a chair and closed her eyes. “So many suspects and none of them good. I take it you didn’t find anything in the storage unit?”
“Nothing that wasn’t accounted for in the will.”
“So where is the art that she was purchasing?”
“I don’t think she was purchasing art,” Goldman said.
“I really thought we had something.”
“Me too,” Goldman said. “Owen is either unlucky and a murderer or really unlucky and not a murderer.”
Burns, without another word, gathered their files and walked into the conference room. Goldman followed with their coffees. He watched as Margot sorted witness statements into a grid across the table, which ran the length of the room.
“What are we doing, Margot?”
“Let’s blank-slate it today,” she said, cleaning up the dry-erase board.
She passed the pen to Noah because he had far superior writing and didn’t mind the squeak.
“Irene’s dead. What is our evidence?” Margot said.
It took Noah a moment to realize the question was for him. “Uh, we have the 9mm bullet, no murder weapon. But our shooter had to know how to shoot,” Noah said.
“But what does the gun get us?” Margot said.
“Nothing. No one in the suspect pool has a registered gun. There was no gun found near the body or around the cemetery.”
“We need that gun,” Burns said.
“Maybe we should widen the search. Is there a lake nearby?”
Margot shook her head. “We’re not getting the funds to drag every pond in a twenty-mile radius. Since no one had a registered weapon, we wouldn’t be able to connect it to any of our suspects. What about the cemetery—does it mean anything?”
“Victim jogged there regularly.”
“The killer knew her habits?” Margot said.