He took another bite of potatoes.
“Are we not going to discuss the obvious?”
“Not yet.”
At ten-thirty, Harold rinsed his plate.
At eleven, he went upstairs.
“Are we not going to discuss the obvious?”
Then came back down wearing his bathrobe.
I stared at him.
“Why are you dressed like you’re checking into a spa?”
“I don’t want to wrinkle another shirt.”
“That explains absolutely nothing, Harold.”
“Stay here.”
“I don’t want to wrinkle another shirt.”
He disappeared upstairs.
I heard very little.
A faint metallic sound.
A door moving.
Then footsteps.
Several minutes passed.
I considered following him.
He disappeared upstairs.
Before I could, Grace screamed.
“HAROLD!”
I ran.
Grace stood in the hallway in a floral robe and slippers, scarlet from her neck to her hairline.
Harold stood opposite her.
Perfectly calm.
Harold stood opposite her.
His right hand was behind his back.
“What did you do?” I asked.
