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Before they entered, they stopped and looked at the front yard.
    â€œTwo more Harleys?” Zee Zee said, although the evidence sat on the front yard parking pad.
    â€œThey look the same to me,” Hollis said.
    â€œThey’re probably different years, but it would be hard to tell them apart. I wonder if Ivan’s was the same? And check out the parking spot—looks like it’s had a new coat of asphalt recently?” Zee Zee reached for her cell. “Time to get the techies here. We’ll cordon it off and check for fingerprints on the pad and the other bikes.”

Three
    M urdered —the word expanded to fill the Hartmans’ kitchen.
    Hollis knew her face must look as blank-faced and wideeyed, as the others did.
    Tomas shuddered and crushed his empty beer can. “Murdered! Ivan. Why? Who would kill Ivan?”
    The metallic crunch. Magnified a thousand times. Spilled oil and gas and blood. She hoped it had been quick, that he hadn’t suffered.
    â€œThe police will figure it out,” Manon said. “Never mind the police. I want to know. What was going on in my brother’s life? What was he doing? What had he done? Why? Why would someone kill him?” Tomas stabbed his finger at Curt. “You must know.”
    Curt, grey-faced, gulped his rum and plunked the empty glass down. He ran both his hands through his hair and shook his head. “You’re right. I should, but I don’t. Ivan and I haven’t talked much lately. He was aware of what I thought of his dead end job and lack of ambition. He avoided me.” His dark eyes narrowed. “But don’t blame me. You’re his brother—what did you talk about?”
    Etienne leaned against his mother. He sniffled. “I was his brother too. I loved him. He played cards with me and made terrific chocolate chip cookies.”
    Manon tightened her grip. “And he loved you.” She released one hand to stroke his dark hair.
    â€œGive me a break—I just got home this week—how would I know? Even when I lived here, he never hung out with me.” Tomas’s shoulders rose, and his chin lifted. “I asked him sometimes. I did. But he turned me down.” His shoulders slumped. “Jesus, I probably didn’t know him as well as Etienne. What did he do for fun? Who were his friends? I don’t know.” Tomas’s lean, hawk-like face twisted. He collapsed on a chair with his head in his hands. “And I feel really bad about it,” he said in a thick voice.
    Nadine, crying softly, brought the teapot, sugar, milk and cups to the kitchen table. “Tea?” she asked.
    Manon, Etienne and Tomas nodded.
    â€œTwo spoonfuls of sugar for everyone,” Hollis directed.
    Several moments of silence broken by clinking spoons and Etienne’s muffled sobs
    Manon encircled Etienne with an arm as they drank their tea. Clearly her priority was her son.
    Hollis wasn’t family. Should she leave? At least make herself scarce while they digested the news. She shifted and rose.
    â€œHollis, don’t go. We need you. You’ve experienced this. What happens now?” Manon said.
    Hollis sank back. “Police officers will come and talk to everyone. They’ll go through Ivan’s things searching for evidence.”
    Tomas lifted his head. “Dad, if the police haven’t told Mom, you have to do it. I could, but it should be you. And you should go now, right now, before there’s anything on radio or TV .”
    Curt, who’d refilled his glass, took a long swallow. “You’re right. I told the officers at Sunnybrook that I would.” He grimaced. “False courage. Lena will blame me.” His lips set in a straight line. “Maybe she should blame ambulance dispatch.
    Why in God’s name did they take him to Sunnybrook? Downtown hospitals have trauma units. Anyway, no matter what the police say, Lena will blame me.”
    As if on cue,