Elizabeth spoke first. “Jack phoned a few minutes ago. He was going to come out but called to check in case we wanted to be alone. I told him not to be silly.”

Ben grimaced. “He shouldn’t worry. I’m glad he’s coming. It’s good to have someone to take your mind off it.”

“But if we want to talk about Maggie and Ben Junior, he doesn’t clam up or change the subject, either.”

Ben swallowed as he stared down at his wife.

“You know,” she continued, “I feel sorry for him. He feels guilty that they haven’t made an arrest. He needs someone to talk to as well. I invited him for dinner…” Elizabeth’s words trailed off when she looked into Ben’s eyes. He wasn’t really listening.

Ben opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and started again. “That’s good. What time did you tell him to come?”

“This afternoon sometime. Dinner will be around six.”

Ben continued to stare at her.

“What is it, Ben? What are you thinking? Is it just … because it’s today?”

Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve been wonderin’. Maybe we should sell and move away. This place has got so many … memories.” His eyes were watery and his voice cracked as he spoke. Words didn’t come easy.

Elizabeth shook her head as tears flooded her eyes. “Memories are all we have. I don’t want to lose those, too.”

Ben squeezed her shoulders with his big hands. He looked relieved. “I feel that way, too. Today, I see a lot of … memories. I wonder if we shouldn’t do something.”

“Like what?”

Ben opened his mouth, but then closed it again and shook his head.

“Tell me, Ben! What are you thinking? I know you’ve been raised that men aren’t supposed to show emotion. But you can’t keep everything bottled up inside you. It’s not good! Your body is like a dam. It breaks if you don’t let go sometimes.”

Ben paused, then said, “I was wonderin’ if we shouldn’t do somethin’ as a tribute.”

Elizabeth nodded encouragement.

“I picked … I picked a pail full of blackberries.”

Elizabeth was momentarily stunned and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Ben! I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll put them in the freezer. But not now. I just can’t. I’ll make another pie, but not that one, not yet.”

“I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea.”

“No, it’s not dumb. It’s just me,” she sobbed.

Ben pulled her close to his chest. She continued to sob as she choked out what she wanted to say. “It’s strange, there are times when I look at the pictures Maggie drew, or hold the teddy bear that Ben Junior used to drag around with him all the time. Sometimes I feel the need to cry. I think it helps. But I can’t make a blackberry pie, not yet. It was Maggie’s favourite.”

“I know it was,” whispered Ben. “I know,” he repeated, patting her on the back.

Then she looked Ben straight in the eye and added, “But we sure as hell aren’t going to move, either.”

They hugged each other tight, and then they both cried.

Jack climbed into the loft and saw Ben sitting on a bale, staring at a rope hanging from the rafters. Jack self-consciously cleared his throat before sitting on another bale.

“Glad you could make it,” said Ben. “You’re early.”

“Thought you could use an extra hand with the hay.”

“Rained last night. I’m givin’ it another day to dry.” Ben was silent for a moment, then said, “Nothing new?”

“Might be connected to drug dealers out of Quebec. I’m working on it.”

“Think the murderer is from Quebec?”

“I think whoever did it is from the West Coast. Only a high-level dealer familiar with the area would go to the bother of using a place like that.”

“Yeah, it was a real bother, wasn’t it?”

Jack choked on his own breath, then stammered, “I’m sorry Ben. I didn’t mean…”

“Naw, forget it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve been a real friend, Jack. Probably the best damn friend I’ve ever had. It’s just that today is, well…”

Ben’s voice trailed off and both men sat in silence. Eventually Ben gestured at the rope hanging from the rafter and said, “It was only two weeks ago that Ben Junior was pretending to be a pirate and swingin’ out on that rope. Maggie was sitting here drinking lemonade.”

Jack didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He felt the gnawing in his stomach. He clenched his teeth to control his tear ducts, then took a deep breath and relaxed his jaw.

“You know, Jack, I’m not a violent man. But if you ever find out who did it … I’d like to see this rope used for a different purpose. I know it won’t bring Maggie or Ben Junior back. Nothing could. I just figure somebody should pay for what happened.”

“Somebody will pay for this,” said Jack tersely.

“I can still see Maggie sitting on the bale drinking lemonade … trying to act like a grown-up lady. Sometimes I walk in the kitchen and expect to see her sitting at the table drawing pictures. Then I remember. I’ll never see her again. It makes me embarrassed I could forget, even for a moment, what happened.”

“Maybe it’s good to remember the good times.”

“Maybe. Liz still sees the blood. She woke up again last night, screaming and pushing my head away from her pillow, thinking it was Ben Junior’s at … at that place.”

Jack saw the tears in Ben’s eyes and wondered if Ben was talking to him or to himself.

“I’m sorry, Jack. Shouldn’t be talking to you this way. I know you’re doing everything possible. There is something I was going to ask you to do for me, if you can.”

“Anything, Ben.”

“Maggie’s little sketchbook. You know the one. She carried it in her back pocket all the time. Just before it happened she was sitting where you are and drew a picture of a wasp on a glass. We want to get it back.”

“I’ll check with CC. I’m sure it’s not a problem.”

Natasha Trovinski looked up from her desk as her receptionist walked in and handed her a compact disc with an envelope attached to it.

“What’s this?”

“Some cute guy said to give it to you, then he left.”

“Who?”

“One of the two Mounties who were in the other night. Not the one you treated.”

Natasha examined the disc. The Marriage of Figaro. She opened the envelope and read the note:

Please accept my apology for lying to you the other night. I also want to thank you for your discretion. If you ever do get married, I hope your husband enjoys this music too.

Sincerely, Jack

P.S. I also don’t appreciate being lied to. Looks like we have another thing in common.

“Did he ask you out on a date?” the receptionist asked. “Better be careful you don’t catch scarlet fever!”

“No, he didn’t ask me. Besides, you know I don’t date patients.”

Jack paid Homicide a visit and spoke with CC.

“Ben asked me for it yesterday. He watched her draw her last picture in it of a wasp on a glass, maybe less than an hour before she was killed. She kept it in her back pocket. Should be in her personal effects.”

“I have it. Actually, it was on the floor at the scene. Behind the door. I looked through it. That kid could really draw! One picture looks like you.”

“It was me.” Jack smiled as he recalled the event. “She made me sit on a log holding a hotdog near my mouth for half an hour for that one.”

“Wait here, I’ll go to the exhibit locker and get it for you.”

A moment later CC returned. “The wasp wasn’t the last thing she put in it. She printed the word Dirty on the next page. Sign for it and you can take it.”

Jack signed the release form and looked at Maggie’s last entry. “This doesn’t fit. She was really talented. Why would she put that word in there?”