“So, you want some?” Ted said.
“Why not?” Owen said as he backed away from the door and let Ted inside.
A drink to calm his nerves was just what Owen needed. Ted was the price he had to pay for free booze. Ted passed the bottle to Owen.
“Maker’s Mark. Nice,” Owen said as he unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth.
“No, dude, let’s be civilized,” Ted said, as he plucked two shot glasses out of the pocket on his backpack.
Ted sat down on the floor and placed the glasses next to his feet. Owen took a seat next to him and poured two shots. The men clinked glasses. Ted said, “Cheers”; Owen said, “Sk?l.”
Mason passed Luna’s room and peered through the open door. “Hey,” said Mason.
“Hey, Mason, come on in,” Ted said.
Owen didn’t think that was such a good idea.
“Where’s Luna?” Mason asked.
“She had a thing,” Owen said.
“She doesn’t like people in her room when she’s not around,” Mason said.
“It’s okay. I got her permission,” said Owen.
“Mason, want a shot? I think I got another glass in here somewhere,” Ted said, fishing through his backpack.
“Nah. Alcohol is poison,” Mason said as he hovered in the doorway.
Owen wanted Mason to leave, but Ted invited Mason to take a load off. Mason decided to stay, figuring Luna would come back eventually. He also felt protective of the personal space that he knew Ted and Owen were breaching.
“So, you and Scarlet,” Ted said, joining their names as if they were a well-established couple.
“We’re just hanging out,” Owen said.
Ted had heard otherwise but was only interested in the subject as a gateway to another topic. “So there’s nothing going on with you and Luna?” Ted asked.
“We’re pals, that’s all.”
“Cool,” said Ted, pouring Owen another shot.
Owen drained the glass. Ted generously poured him another.
“You have a thing for Luna?” Owen asked Ted.
“I think she’s cool,” Ted said.
Owen wished Mason would leave. He was just sitting there, silently following the conversation.
“She is cool,” said Owen. “Don’t you agree, Mason?”
“She’s got her good side and her bad side,” Mason said. He adored Luna but couldn’t shake his noncommittal ways.
Ted ignored Mason and returned his attention to Owen. “Dude, you’re like her best friend. Give me something.”
“Huh?”
“What do I need to know?”
“She’s a girl,” Owen said. “Ask her questions. Ask her lots and lots of questions.”
Owen briefly caught Mason’s confused expression. Mason knew what Owen was saying was bullshit, and he let Owen know he knew, but he didn’t rat him out.
* * *
—
“Hey!” Luna shouted from the shadow of her door. “What the fuck?”
The three men scrambled to their feet. Mason took something out of his backpack and stashed it in the pocket of the army jacket Luna was wearing.
“I just came by to bring you that,” said Mason as he made a quick departure.
Ted foisted on Luna the half-empty bottle of whiskey. “For you,” he said as he slipped out of the room.
Luna dropped the bottle on her desk, then took Mason’s weed out of her pocket and stored it in her dresser drawer.
“So many admirers,” Owen said. “How can you possibly keep them all satisfied?”
“Keys,” Luna said, holding out her hand.
Owen fished in his pocket and handed them over. He tried not to look as guilty as he felt. Luna tried not to look as angry as she felt.
“They just came by. I didn’t invite them in,” Owen said.
Luna opened her door wide to encourage Owen’s departure. It took Owen a moment to get the hint.
“Ohhh. You want me to leave.”
“I need some me time,” Luna said.
October 8, 2019
Detective Burns gazed out the grimy window of the Deerkill police station and carefully observed Luna and Owen chatting on the front steps. Owen was smoking. Burns, who had a good nose, hadn’t detected the odor of even a casual smoker during the interview. Trauma often caused people to return to bad habits. So did fear. And guilt. Luna had to have bought the cigarettes for him. Luna was not smoking. So, Luna had anticipated his need. There was something intimate about that.
Detective Goldman approached his partner, carrying two fresh mugs of coffee. He followed Burns’s gaze out the window. “ME confirmed that Irene died yesterday. There’s no point in testing the husband’s pajamas.”