Page 115 of Before She Disappeared

“Former lover, boyfriend, husband?”

“I’ve never been married.”

He nods, that tells him enough. “How long were you together?”

“Nine months. Maybe a year. Depends how you want to count things.”

“The infamous ‘we can’t even agree on our first date’?”

“Something like that. We met twelve years ago. He helped me get sober the first time around. He believed in me, when I needed someone to have more faith and perseverance than I did.”

“And now?”

“Turned out ‘normal’ life wasn’t for me. Not to mention he didn’t approve of my new hobby. He thought I was being obsessive and self-destructive, substituting one addiction for another. It happens.”

“He’s an alcoholic.”

“No. Just a man with a savior complex.”

“So he helped you get sober—”

“I got myself sober, thank you very much.”

“Touché. But you meet. First him helping, then it becoming more, until you get too interested in playing detective—”

“Are you trying to die this morning?”

“I had a rough night.”

“Me, too, buddy. You want answers, ask some honest questions.”

Lotham is silent for a while. His breathing has accelerated. Mine, too.

“Where is Paul now?”

“We parted ways ten years ago.”

“Are you still in touch?”

“I dial his number on occasion.”

“And he takes your call?”

“No. His widow does.”

Lotham doesn’t speak anymore. Neither do I.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last.

“Nothing to do with you.”

“Still...”

“Like you said, you have a murder investigation. And I have work to do, as well.”

“Bartending tonight?”

“Shift starts at three.”

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