Jesse hated instant coffee. Across the table from him, Mr.
Gennaro put a spoonful of Cremora in his coffee and stirred.
He was a wiry little man, no taller than his wife.
He worked sometimes as a fisherman, and sometimes as a landscaper, and in snowstorms be drove a plow for the town.
“How are you both doing?” Jesse asked.
Mr. Gennaro shrugged.
Mrs. Gennaro said, “We get through the
day.”
“It’ll get better,” Jesse said.
“I know it doesn’t feel like that now, but in time, it’ll get better.”
Neither one said anything. Probably didn’t Want it to get better right now, Jesse thought, probably were so into the grief that it was their life, and without it they wouldn’t have anything at all.
“I see you have your daughter’s house on the market.”
Jesse said.
“Yeah,” Mr:- Gennaro said. “No
sense paying for an empty house.”
“You selling it furnished?” Jesse said.
“No,” Mrs. Gennaro said. “We got
a man to come in and take everything out. He paid us for the furniture.”
“That’s good,” Jesse said.
“It would be painful doing that yourself.”
Mrs. Gennaro nodded. The steam began to spout from the kettle.
She turned the heat down beneath it and came to the table.
“I hope you were able to keep some
memories,” Jesse said.
Mr. Gennaro shifted a little in his seat.
“What do you mean,” Mrs. Gennaro said.
“You know,” Jesse said,
“pictures, letters, diaries, stuff like that.”
They were silent.
“She keep a diary?” Jesse said.
Simultaneously, Mr. Gennaro said “Yes” and Mrs. Gennaro said “No.”
Jesse smiled politely and didn’t say anything. The Gennaros looked at each other. Jesse waited. No one said anything.
Jesse could hear the hot water in the teakettle stir restlessly on the stove over the low heat.
“If she kept a diary it might help us find who killed her,” Jesse said.
The Gennaros looked at each other and hack at Jesse.
Still they didn’t speak. Jesse knew they were silent because they didn’t know what to say. He needed to get them started.
“I want to punish the man who killed your daughter.”
Jesse said.
Silence. Mr. Gennaro shifted again in his chair. Mrs.
Gennaro’s face was clenched like a fist.. Her cheeks were red.
“I know there are diaries,” Jesse said.
Mrs. Gennaro shook her head.
‘“I need to see them.”
Still she shook her head. Jesse looked at her husband.
“You want the man that killed your
daughter?” Jesse said.
His voice was still quiet, but, the pleasantness was gone.
“You embarrassed by what’s in
there?” Jesse said.
