“Nothing,” she replied calmly.
“Right, so how come you aren’t looking at me?”
“Really, Jeremy? Psychoanalyzing me now?”
“I’m sorry, darling, but….”
“But what?” She sniffed dismissively. “You think I’m some murderer?”
That came out of nowhere. “No, I just wanted to know if you were burying treasure in our backyard.” Where had the murderer comment come from? Even as he wondered, he didn’t really want to know. Guilt was a strong motivator, but what did she have to feel guilty for?
“I’ve got to go to work,” she replied, taking up her purse.
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m grilling tonight.”
Would there, he wondered, be grilling tonight?
He watched her drive away, mind still wrestling with the question of the garden. Maybe, he was wrong. It had happened before.
Maybe she had been burying food scraps or… a dead mouse she’d found in the yard….. or…. He pushed such thoughts away. Forced himself to clean up the breakfast dishes before heading to his home office. No patients today, but he had piles of papers to work through.
By lunchtime, his curiosity overwhelmed him and he had to go to the garden. Taking a trowel, he walked to where she’d been digging. Did he really want to know? Was it worth breaking her trust to find something meaningless like a dead mouse? Their cat brought in dead creatures all the time, but Kathy had never buried them before.
Kneeling, he started turning soil. Murderer didn’t mean she’d really killed somebody, he told himself. She would consider herself a murderer if she’d accidentally killed said mouse. That didn’t make her ‘one who murders’ or was he just finding excuses?
Maybe her paranoia was returning. Or maybe his. Maybe she’d had an affair, thought he wasn’t sure how that might equal digging in the garden. Maybe…..
He kept digging until his trowel hit something hard.