found just about what he was expecting. His face was unusually pale and his hair looked rather comical. On one side, it stood straight out in all directions, on the other it was matted from sleep. Thick red lines extended from his hazel irises. He hadn’t bothered to remove his contacts.
He felt slightly better after vomiting and thought some milk might soothe his stomach. He rifled through the cabinet, found some aspirin, and carried the bottle into the kitchen.
The television came on in the living room as he poured the milk into a tall glass. He put two tablets into his hand, thought about it, added another, then popped all three into his mouth and took a small sip of the milk. He held the cool glass to his forehead as he walked back to the living room.
Nigel was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, surfing the channels with the remote. Kevin had never known him to look anything but impeccable, even early in the morning, and today was no exception. He was already showered and fully dressed, as if he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol the previous night.
With a slight grunt, Kevin immersed himself in the Lazy Boy.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Nigel said with a smile.
Kevin turned toward him and gave him a dirty look. “I hate you.”
“I told you the Jello shots were strong, but you didn’t want to listen.”
“You had just as many as I did.”
“I also drink more often than every six months.”
“So do I. But now I’m thinking about quitting all together.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym at nine?”
“Yeah, that’s the only time I can get into the pool to swim laps.” Kevin sat up. “Why? What time is it?”
Nigel looked at his watch. “9:01.”
Kevin sank back into the chair. “Damn! This is the first time I’ve missed in two years.”
Nigel shook his head. “Two years? You’re weirder than you look.” He continued clicking the remote.
Kevin watched TV and brooded quietly. Conversation was not generally part of his morning routine, and he had not yet had his requisite Diet Coke. As Kevin sipped his milk, Nigel flipped past a face on the screen that Kevin immediately recognized.
He almost spit out the milk. After swallowing, he sputtered, “Wait! Turn it back!”
“What?” Nigel said, as he reversed directions on the remote.
Four channels down, Kevin saw it. “There! Stop!”
Nigel stopped on what was apparently a local TV news broadcast, and looked over at him with a puzzled expression. “What…”
“Shhh! Turn it up.” Kevin stared incredulously at the screen. To the right of the anchorwoman’s head was a small photo of Dr. Michael Ward. The picture had been taken when Ward still had a beard, but it was definitely him.
Nigel thumbed the remote, and the program became audible.
“…where we take you live to Lisa Hernandez. Lisa, what can you tell us?”
The image shifted to a woman standing in front of the blackened ruins of what used to be a house. Wisps of smoke could still be seen rising in the calm air. The only things left standing were a crumbling chimney and the scorched remains of a large tree. Police and firefighters mingled in the background, and yellow crime tape was visible circling the property.
“Joan, at two o’clock this morning, residents of this usually quiet north Houston community were awakened by a huge explosion. When firefighters arrived on the scene, they found the home of Michael Ward, a South Texas University chemistry professor, burning out of control. As you can see, the fire is now contained, but not before two firefighters succumbed to heat exhaustion in this morning’s sweltering conditions. When the heat of the fire had subsided enough for a search, the charred remains of two people were found among the rubble.”
The TV cut to a clip of two black plastic bags lying behind a van marked “Harris County Coroner.” Kevin’s grip on the milk glass tightened.
“The police haven’t issued a statement as yet, but sources close to the investigation believe they could only be the bodies of Dr. Ward and his wife, Irene.”
Kevin continued silently watching, shaking his head slowly.
Joan interrupted. “Has the cause of the fire been determined, Lisa?”
“The cause of the fire has not yet been determined, Joan, but arson investigators are on the premises and foul play has not been ruled out. Speculation now is that the fire was started by a cigarette and spread to the gas lines, which then caused the explosion. The house is in a relatively new development and is the first on the block to be occupied, which may explain why the fire was not reported soon enough to prevent this horrible tragedy. This is Lisa Hernandez reporting live from Spring for H News. Joan.”
“Thank you, Lisa. We understand the police are expected to make a statement within the next hour, and when they do, H News, Houston’s only twenty-four-hour news source, will bring it to you live. Turning to other news, police say drugs may be involved in the execution-style shooting of an attorney whose body was found yesterday morning…” Nigel pressed the mute button on the remote.
“You knew that professor, didn’t you?” he said.
“He was the one who fired me four months ago.”
“Wow, that’s wild.” Nigel didn’t seem know what else to say.
Kevin stared out the window. Dr. Ward, dead. When the accident had happened and he’d been fired, Kevin had wished a lot of bad things on Dr. Ward, but never death. Yet he didn’t feel grief about the loss either. He really didn’t know how he felt.
“Kevin,” Nigel said, “are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just weird.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Well enough. That’s why it’s so strange. Ward was a jerk, but he was also a careful guy, almost anal. I guess I’m just surprised that that kind of accident would happen to him.”
“I hear about these things happening to smokers all the time.”
“So do I. But it’s still strange.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Kevin decided he needed to get back to his apartment and started to search for the rest of his clothes. He found his shirt and shoes under a pizza box and put them on. The hangover was still there, but it was down to a dull throbbing.
“If you need anything, give me a call,” Nigel said.
“Really, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Kevin walked out into the bright September morning. The newscast was right about the temperature. The heat was already shimmering off the driveway’s pavement.
He tried starting the Mustang several times before the car turned over. He automatically switched on the radio, which was usually tuned to the local jazz station, and then figured that he needed a little silence this morning and shut the radio off. As he released the parking brake and shifted into first, he looked at the trip odometer, which was how he gauged his gas level. There was enough to make it back to his apartment complex. Nothing was going to stand between him and a nice cool shower.
CHAPTER 5
The Sycamore apartment complex was nowhere near the South Texas University campus. It was located on the west side of Houston, just outside the Loop, far from the high crime area around the university where the cheapest apartments were, but not quite into the more expensive suburbs. It was relatively safe, with a security gate and fence encircling the complex, and the rent for a one bedroom apartment was affordable. The only drawback was the commute, which could take over forty minutes with the morning rush hour.
Like most complexes in the city, sprawling parking lots surrounded long rows of nondescript three-level buildings, which in turn overlooked courtyards with the
