Page 149 of Over Her Dead Body

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you. I assumed anything surrounding Charles is probably still difficult for them.”

“Why?”

“Well, I just mean considering the circumstances of his death…”

“How did he die?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Charles came home unexpectedly during a burglary. There was some kind of confrontation. He fell, hit his head. By the time anyone found him, he was dead.”

“Did they catch the person responsible?”

“No.”

“What was taken?”

“Not much. Cash. Prescription medication. A watch. A few things that could be carried out quickly. The police suspected they were looking for pills or something they could turn into cash. An addict, most likely. A few other houses in the area had been hit.”

“And nothing else was missing?”

“Not that anyone knew.”

Not that anyone knew.

I look at the bandages around my fingers.

“When was this?”

He gives me the date and the memory comes back without asking.

Reid at the door with his keys.

Another delivery.

Another night.

We had already argued about the hours. The money. The fact that every improvement he wanted for our life seemed to require him to spend less of it with me.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

I had heard that before.

“I’m not waiting up.”

He looked at me.

I remember that part because for years I wished I had said something else.

Something kinder.

Something worthy of being the last thing your husband hears from you.

Instead, I went to bed angry.