The Woman In the Bedroom by Cathryn Grant

Author:Cathryn Grant [Grant, Cathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, American Suspense, psychological thriller, sociopath, killer, Vigilante
ISBN: 1943142386
Published: 2017-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

37

Sydney

Everyone was still sleeping, or so it seemed, when I finished the muffin. As tasty as it was, I wanted something more after all. I returned to the kitchen and made a latte while I tried to decide what I was in the mood for.

Scrambling eggs was too much effort, given a belly half full of muffin. I wasn’t starving, just not quite satisfied. I dug through the fridge drawers. A package of sausages meant for a barbecue were wrapped in plastic, two of the original four already eaten. They weren’t breakfast sausages, but they were the very thing my body was craving.

I cut them into disks and cooked them in a pan with a spot of oil, slicing up part of a yellow bell pepper to give them some color and contrasting flavor. I sat at the bar and began eating. They were spicy — pork with lots of garlic and some flakes of red pepper. I sipped my latte, thinking about Lisa.

As I put a bite of sausage looped with a string of blackened bell pepper into my mouth, Gavin walked into the kitchen. He took the basket out of the espresso machine, dumped the wet grounds, and started a fresh cup. He wiped off the steam wand with a damp towel and washed and dried the stainless steel milk pitcher.

“I was going to do that,” I said.

“No worries.”

“Did you have a good sleep?”

He didn’t answer. He took eggs and tomatoes and cheese out of the fridge and placed them on the counter near the stove.

I ate a few more bites of sausage, giving him thinking room.

After a minute or two, I set my fork on my plate and picked up my coffee mug. “You didn’t talk much last night.”

He said nothing.

I changed direction. “How many of the neighbors have you met?”

“Four.”

I waited for the rest of the answer. When none came, I realized he’d answered precisely the question I’d asked. “Which ones?”

He shrugged.

“The guy next door?”

“John, yes.”

“On the other side of us?”

He shook his head.

“Lisa, next door to John?”

He nodded.

“Who else?”

“Don’t recall the names. Old guy across from us, the husband of the family two doors down from him.”

“Is this the kind of place that has block parties?”

“Can’t answer that.”

“How long did you live here before I moved in?”

“Two months.”

I supposed four neighbors in two months wasn’t bad. It wasn’t as if his move had all the surrounding activity that tends to bring neighbors out of their fortresses, and provides reasons and opportunities for introductions to the new kids on the block. Moving into someone’s already established household hardly causes a ripple.

I ate some more sausage. He didn’t volunteer any additional thoughts.

“Have you seen John’s telescope?”

“No.”

“It’s in that second story patio that looks like a box. It’s a sort of observatory.”

“Sounds good.”

I couldn’t figure out if he was speaking even less than usual, trying to communicate in his non-verbal way that our kiss had been a one-time event, and not to be assumed to represent a relationship of any kind.

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