Page 66 of To Die For

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HIS HAIR DISHEVELED, HIS SLEPT-INclothes heavily wrinkled, and with darkened pouches under his bloodshot eyes and stubble on his chin, Devine, carrying the binder, walked into the kitchen the next morning. Well, it was actually nearly the afternoon, he thought, as he checked his watch. He was instantly flooded with the mingled smells of coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast that Rose was overseeing on the stove top.

“You sleep in too?” asked Devine.

“Yep,” said Rose. “Me and Dozer are definitely night owls.”

“Yeah, Nate mentioned that before.”

Rose looked up, flinched, and said, “Whoa, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit, dude.”

A moment later, Nate Shore walked in from the other doorway and said, “Yeah, like really shitty.”

“Thanks, guys,” said Devine. “Is the coffee ready? I think I’ll just dump it on my head.”

Rose set the table and ladled out the food onto three plates while Devine poured himself a cup of coffee and Shore did likewise.

The three men sat down and commenced eating.

Rose looked Devine over. “Didn’t sleep well, huh? I got somethin’ to help that. Nothin’ to get you hooked on,” he added quickly. “I’m talkin’ meditation, breathin’ exercises, stuff like that. It works, no lie. It ain’t heroin, but sometimes it comes close.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Devine held up the binder. “You two ever seen this before?”

Rose said, “Yeah, Betsy put stuff in that thing all the time. She’s a good drawer, too.”

Shore cracked his thick neck and nodded. “And she puts photos in there. Her mom had one of them old cameras where the pictures pop out and then come to life in ’bout a minute.”

“Yeah, a Polaroid,” noted Devine. “You two made the cut.”

He held the binder open to a particular page, where there was a picture of Betsy, and Shore and Rose.

“Damn, am I really that fat?” said Rose, peering closely at his image.

“Good cooks always fat,” noted Shore with a grin. “See, they always eatin’ fine. But I look pretty damn buff, if I do say so myself,” he added with a chuckle.

A dejected Rose looked at his unfinished fried eggs, buttered toast, and crispy bacon and slowly pushed his plate away.

Devine opened the binder to the last entry.

“She wrote this about her uncle. Any thoughts? Keep in mind this wasbeforeher parents died and before she knew Glass was going to try to adopt her.”

Rose and Shore looked at the words on the page and exchanged a nervous glance, but neither man spoke.

Devine put the binder down, sat back, and gazed at them both. “Okay, guys, you say you want me to protect Betsy? Well, guess what? To do that, I need you to tell me what you know. All of it.”

Shore fingered his coffee, while Rose listlessly poked at his eggs.

“Some guys come to see Dwayne and Alice last year,” began Shore.

“What guys?”

“Men in suits. Dwayne and them ain’t livin’ here then. They was in a little apartment in a town called Roslyn. And they was about to get kicked outta there ’cause Dwayne couldn’t hold a job like always and they was behind on their rent and such.”

Rose chimed in, “Roslyn’s where they filmed that TV show,Northern Exposure. Watched it when I was a kid. Good show, what you call quirky.” He grinned at Shore. “Like us, Dozer,quirky.”

Shore didn’t crack a smile. “Anyway, they was livin’ there and some men come by.”

“Wait, you mean you two were there when they visited?” asked Devine.

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