May We Be Forgiven

with an officer waiting for the evidence team. I start to go upstairs, the cop stops me: “Crime scene,” he says.
    “Clothing,” I say, flapping my pajama legs—actually George’s pajama legs.
    He escorts me up to the bedroom, which looks like a tornado hit, the lamp in pieces on the floor, blood, the bed undone. I change out of my brother’s pajamas, and without a word to the wise, I borrow George’s clean clothes, still in the dry cleaner’s plastic bag hanging off the closet door.
    “Leave the dirties in the room,” the cop says. “You never know what’ll come into play.”
    “You’re right,” I say, and we go back downstairs.
    As the cop follows me down, I feel strangely like a suspect. It occurs to me that it would be smart to call George’s lawyer and update him on the turn of events, but I can’t remember his name. I’m also wondering if the cop is somehow watching me, if I should be worried about making fast moves, reaching for anything and so on. Also, how do I get away from him in order to make a private phone call?
    “I think I’ll go put some laundry in the dryer.”
    “Wait,” the cop says. “That you can do later. Wet clothes stay wet.”
    “Okey-dokey.” I sit at the kitchen table and casually pick up the phone and go through the caller ID, thinking the lawyer’s name is there and will ring a bell. Bingo—Rutkowsky.
    “Okay if I use the phone?”
    “It’s your nickel.”
    “Okay if I step outside?”
    He nods.
    “Did I get you at a bad time?” I ask when Rutkowsky, the lawyer, answers.
    “Who is this?”
    “Silver, Harry Silver, George Silver’s brother.”
    “I’m on my way into court,” the lawyer says.
    I’m standing in the front yard, barefoot in the wet grass. “There have been developments.” I pause. “George walked out of the hospital last night, and Jane has been injured, a lamp got her on the head. The police are here, waiting for an evidence team, and …”
    “How come you’re there?”
    “I was asked to keep Jane company while my brother was in the hospital.”
    “Where is Jane?”
    “She’s off to the hospital.”
    “And George?”
    “They’ve taken him as well.”
    “Is there the sense that the crime is serious?”
    “Yes.”
    “When the police come, follow them even if they ask you to leave, you go wherever they go. Don’t allow them to move anything, and if they ask you to touch or move anything, keep your hands in your pockets. They can take photos, they can pick up things with tweezers and put them in baggies.”
    “The neighbors are watching out their windows.”
    “I’ll meet you at the house at four-thirty; until then, don’t disturb the scene.”
    “I’ll leave a key under the fake rock by the front door, in case I’m not back.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “The hospital.”
    “Let me have your cell in case I need you.”
    I give him the number and he hangs up. In my head I hear Jane’s voice: “Condoms?”

    Y es. And where are they now? Gone, used, finished, dropped in the kitchen trash, loaded with jism.
    I go back into the house. “Mind if I make a fresh pot of joe?”
    “I won’t stop you,” the cop says. “Was that dog always here?” The cop points to Tessie, who is licking the water from my feet. Her bowl is dry. “That’s Tessie.”
    I give the dog fresh water and kibble.
    The evidence team suits up on the front lawn, laying out white Tyvek onesies and then climbing into them as if mounting a hazmat operation, complete with booties and latex gloves. “No, really, it’s okay,” I say. “We’re not contagious and the carpet’s already wrecked.” They don’t respond. “Coffee anyone?” I ask, holding up my mug. Usually I don’t drink coffee, but this morning I’m already on my fourth cup; I’ve got my reasons. As directed, I follow them from room to room. “So you use film and digital?”
    “Yep,” the photographer says, snapping away.
    “That’s really interesting. And how do you know what to photograph?”
    “Sir, if you could please stand back.”

    B efore they leave, the cop takes out his notebook. “A couple of queries before I go. There are some blank spots, holes in the story.”
    “Like what?”
    “Were you having sex with her when your brother came home?”
    “I was sleeping.”
    “Have you been having a relationship with your brother’s wife?”
    “I am here because my brother has been in the hospital.”
    “And your wife?”
    “She’s in China. It was my