13

 

Less than thirty minutes later Geoff stood on my back deck, flowers in hand, knocking on the frame of the open sliding door. My outside light wasn’t on, but I could see him, his head bowed humbly, in the pool of living room light that spread across the deck.

I left him there for a quarter of a heartbeat—I didn’t want to seem too eager to forgive him—before inviting him inside.

He held out the splendid bouquet that had adorned his dinner table. “I’m sorry.”

I flew into his arms, burying my tear-stained face against his chest. “So. Am. I.”

He held me tight as the moisture from the dripping flower stems soaked through my shirt. Pleasantly refreshed, at first, I eventually pulled free and found a vase. I set the flowers in the middle of my table and thanked Geoff appropriately.

It was a silly argument anyway, which didn’t deserve that second run through after the afternoon’s set-to. I changed into a dry top, and we settled on the couch.

One of the things I enjoyed about my apartment was its privacy. The only entrances were through the shop and the tiny bridge Geoff made between his deck and mine. If I didn’t want company I could pretty much guarantee no company.

Geoff, of course, was the exception. He was always welcome.

He and I snuggled and kissed and briefly discussed whether he’d prefer white gold or yellow for his wedding band. All very delightful, really, until the tiny hairs on my arms began to prickle. And not in a good way.

I opened my eyes and shifted so I could peer over his shoulder. From that position, I could see the darkness of my unlit deck. (We’d dimmed my apartment lights for a more romantic atmosphere, leaving no excess light flowing from the living room.)

Two faces—one pale, the other so dark all I could make out were the teeth—pressed against my sliding glass door. I almost had a heart attack.

Geoff reacted instantly. Perhaps having someone shriek in your ear does that to you.

He sprang to his feet, vaulted the coffee table, and flung the glass door wide.

The prowlers stood with mouths gaping. I guess they hadn’t expected my reaction, either.

“What in creation do you think you’re doing?!” Geoff bellowed as he hauled Josh inside by his t-shirt. Ash, her arm wrapped tight around Josh’s waist, staggered in with him.

They sputtered in unison.

“How did you get up there in the first place?” I wanted to know.

Josh regained his composure first. “Easy. We sneaked up the back stairs at the Heron, through Geoff’s place to the back deck, and across to yours.”

“You broke into Geoff’s apartment?”

Ash’s eyes widened innocently. “We d-didn’t break in. The door was open. We called, but you guys didn’t answer so we came here.”

“Cool bridge,” said Josh.

“Thanks,” said Geoff.

“Don’t change the subject. You can’t just let yourself into someone’s house when they’re not home, even if the door’s unlocked.”

No one in Hum Harbour locked their doors. People came and went as they pleased. Need a cup of sugar? Ask your neighbor. Your neighbor’s not home? Help yourself. They won’t mind. It was the basic neighbors’ code in these parts. We all knew it. And we all knew that it was the scare, not the crime, that made me react so strongly. Maybe crime wasn’t the right word.

“Now that you’re here,” I said. “What do you want?”

Ash elbowed Josh in the ribs. “Josh has something to say.”

Geoff and I turned on him—perhaps I should rephrase. We turned to him.

“Ash says I have to tell you I was outside Hunter Hall the other night. You know, when everything happened.”

“The night Claude died?”

Geoff stiffened. “You saw what happened?”

Josh looked to Ash for support. “Sorta. I mean, I was there, and I saw you, like, talking with Claude.” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans, perhaps to keep himself from nervously scratching his head. “And I saw Danny-Boy Murdock bust in and leave again.”

“What were you doing there?” Geoff asked.

Josh’s hands reappeared. He held them up I-surrender style. “I just happened by.”

“And hung around for a bit.”

“Yeah, well, I heard shouting and I’m, like, maybe I should hang around in case someone needs me.” He apparently considered that a reasonable explanation.

“So while all this shouting was happening, you hung out where, exactly?”

“Ah…” I could see the wheels in his head trying to turn. “On the sidewalk?”

Hunter Hall was built right smack-dab up to the sidewalk, but I wasn’t sure you could hear what was happening in the middle of the house—no matter how loud it got.

My dearest Geoff, who always gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, said, “I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful with us.”

Josh’s face looked as forlorn as Caber’s. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but Ash was like, ‘of course they will. They’re Christians. They have to believe what we say.’”

“Only if it’s true,” said Geoff.

“Well it is. I went to help, but you didn’t need me, so then I left.”

“What time did you leave?” I asked.

“I don’t wear a watch, but,” he rushed on before I could accuse him of making excuses, “I followed Danny-Boy out to make sure he didn’t circle back.”

“While you were doing that, did you happen to notice anyone else, or see anything suspicious?”

Josh scratched under his do-rag. “Like what?”

“Someone standing across the street?”

He studied the ceiling. Maybe he was replaying the evening in his head. Maybe he was trying to come up with a plausible answer, though I had no idea why he’d lie. Unless, of course, he’d been lying all along.

“I didn’t see nobody but me and Danny-Boy.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” said Geoff.

Honesty, shmonesty. How could he believe Josh? Why didn’t I?