An Unexpected Grace by Kristin von Kreisler

“There’s nothing to say about the other times. They were no big deal.”
    â€œWhen did you last talk to him?” Rich asked.
    â€œA few weeks ago. I don’t know exactly.”
    â€œ Surely you can remember,” Joe pressed, as if Lila were a criminal he didn’t believe.
    â€œI didn’t pay attention to the exact day.”
    â€œYou must remember what the conversation was about,” Joe insisted.
    â€œIt couldn’t have been important,” Lila said, sounding more defensive than she intended. Being badgered when she was feeling weak, she could hardly keep her mind straight or think of what to say.
    Joe squeezed one of Cristina’s candlesticks like a turnip he wanted blood from. “You’re too young to be so forgetful.”
    â€œI’m telling you the truth. I probably thanked him for emptying my trash. I don’t know.” When Lila shrugged, pain shot from her wounded shoulder down her arm. “I’ve been thinking about getting well. Yuri Makov hasn’t been the center of my life.” But, then, that wasn’t exactly true, since Cristina had accused Lila of obsessing about him.
    â€œCan you tell us about any beef he might’ve had with anyone ?” Rich asked.
    â€œI didn’t know him well enough to know about a beef.” Lila pressed the nails of her good hand into piping in the club chair’s armrest.
    â€œAnybody beside you in the office have much contact with him?” Rich asked.
    â€œI didn’t have much contact. I told you I hardly knew him.” Lila paused, pressed her lips together. “What beef do you think Yuri Makov might have had with somebody?”
    â€œDon’t know yet,” Rich said.
    â€œHave you ever had a case like this before?”
    â€œYeah, a couple,” Rich said.
    â€œWhat made the people kill? Did you find out?”
    â€œIt can be complicated.” Rich tapped his pen on his knee like a small walking stick. “We had a guy shoot up a drugstore where he worked. He had an abusive dad who humiliated him all the time, kinda like another employee who kept calling him ‘fag.’ He lashed out, or so we decided.”
    â€œRemember Michael O’Toole?” Joe asked Rich.
    â€œHe got wigged-out when he lost some big law case, so he killed four people in his firm. One sick puppy. Angry about everything.” Rich put his pen in his pocket and closed his notebook. “It can be hard to tell with these psychos, but we’ll figure out what made Makov tick.”
    â€œHe didn’t come across as some violent freak,” Lila said.
    â€œGotta have been provoked somehow.” Rich got up to leave. “Try to think of anything else to help us figure this out.”
    â€œThere isn’t anything else.” With effort, Lila struggled to her feet.
    â€œIf we need to talk to you again, how can we reach you?” Rich asked.
    Not pleased at the prospect of seeing the men a second time, Lila said, “I’ll be here.”
    Rich handed her a business card and started toward the door. Joe followed. When he stepped on the porch, sunlight glared on the bald spot crowning his head. Jingling the coins in his pocket, he turned around and muttered, “Shit happens.”
    â€œTell me about it,” Lila said.

8
    L ila wiped Cristina’s kitchen counter around tote bags and boxes overflowing with cookies, paper towels, dog toys, games, and CDs. As she squeezed out the sponge at the sink, a box slammed on the garage’s concrete floor. Cristina was out there packing the van and muttering to herself. Tomorrow she and Rosie would drive to Sacramento to pick up a cousin and travel with her to Washington.
    At dinner Cristina had stabbed her fork into a green bean. “I’m a pathetic camp follower. If my boss hadn’t agreed to let me telecommute, my career would be ruined because Greg wants to make tideland policy.”
    â€œHe’d