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Uncle Marius and Aunt Millie were supposed to come later that night after the store closed, but they never made it.” I was silent for a moment, staring at the kittens instead of looking at Vaughn. I’d never told anybody about that night, about how my family had kept the truth from me because they thought they were protecting me, and how sick I’d felt when I learned what had happened. I hadn’t been back to the store since then.
    â€œWhen did you find out?”
    â€œLater. Nobody wanted to talk about it. Uncle Marius stopped sending me birthday presents, and he withdrew from the family. I think it was easier for everyone to try to pretend it didn’t happen, but I couldn’t.” I looked away from Vaughn, surprised and embarrassed that I’d told him so much. I felt him watching me and focused my attention on the kittens, running my open palm over the orange one’s tiny head. He raised his head and bumped his little pink nose into my thumb.
    â€œIt must have been hard for you, Poly.” Vaughn’s voice softened when he said my name. His eyes were wide, framed by lashes that were wasted on a guy. His hair had gotten mussed up when he was in the Dumpster and now flopped over his forehead. I had the urge to push it away from his eyes, but felt it was too intimate of a gesture to act on.
    â€œI think it was harder for my family. This huge tragedy happened and nobody grieved properly because they were trying to protect me so I could have a happy graduation. But I didn’t care about the graduation. Ten years went by and, because my uncle kept the store locked up and cut himself off from the rest of the family, I never had a chance to come back to the store, to make peace with Aunt Millie being gone. Nobody would talk about it. I wanted to know the truth, and now I’ll never know, aside from a decade of rumors.”
    â€œI might be able to help with that.”
    â€œHow?”
    He checked his watch. “It’s later than I thought and I have to be somewhere. I know this is last-minute, but can I take you to dinner tonight? I’d like to keep talking about this.”
    His invitation blindsided me. “I haven’t thought far enough ahead to know where I’ll be tonight.”
    â€œThen let me decide that for you. You’ll be at the Waverly House at, say, seven thirty? I’ll meet you out front.”
    He got halfway out the door before I called out to him. “Vaughn, you didn’t live here when the murder happened. If you had, I would have known you. So who told you? How do you know so much about that night?”
    He looked at the ground and then at me. “Mr. Pickers told me.”

Six
    â€œMr. Pickers told you about my great-aunt’s murder? Why were you talking to him about my family? What did he know about it?” I asked.
    â€œMeet me tonight. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Vaughn turned away from me and let himself out the back door. I wanted to run after him and ask more questions, but I didn’t. His invitation to dinner was unexpected, and a part of me felt guilty accepting it while I had a steady boyfriend waiting for me back in Los Angeles. The more I thought about it, the more I questioned his presence at my Dumpster hours after the police had finished processing the crime scene. Had he really heard the barely audible mews of a pair of helpless kittens, or was he responsible for them being there in the first place? Like every other question from that morning, I had no answers. And I couldn’t help but confront the other side of the question, too. If he
was
telling the truth, if he knew something that connected Mr. Pickers to the fabric store, then I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.
    I said good-bye to the two sleeping kittens and went out the front door, locking it behind me. I didn’t bother with the gate. Too much work had gone into removing it and, at least for the next twenty-four