Killer Coin

by Elka Ray

  I fight back a smile. People come here for that. And hasn’t Colin ever watched any old episodes of Unsolved Mysteries? They always start the same way, with Robert Stack extolling how scenic and quiet some place is before his tone grows wary: And then the peace was shattered . . .

  Colin is watching me. I realize he’s waiting for an answer. Now’s not the time for cynicism. Besides, a trip away with him sounds wonderful. “I’d love that,” I say. “Just you and me. Someplace quiet.”

  His smile is so bright I blink. “Where should we go?” he asks.

  I tilt closer to kiss him.

  “Inland,” I say. Definitely nowhere on a boat. We could go skiing at Whistler. Or just hole up beside a fire in a snow-covered log cabin. Nowhere to go and nothing to do except be together.

  Again, our lips meet. My whole body tingles. I don’t need the fire—it’s already glowing, in my gut. He pulls me closer. I slide my good hand under his hospital robe, feel his shoulder blades, his smooth, hard back. Even now, when he’s recovering, he feels strong and substantial.

  We kiss until, behind me, someone clears their throat. It’s the same nurse, the one with grey hair and pink cat-eye glasses. She’s holding a little dish containing a few pills and a glass of water.

  “Again?” she says, in mock exasperation. She laughs. “Didn’t I tell you he needs rest?” She wags a finger.

  I straighten, feeling sheepish. She laughs again and peers at Colin. “You’ve got more color in your face,” she says. “You look much better.” She tilts her head my way. “Love’s the best medicine,” she says. “There’s nothing like it.”

  Faced with this woman’s scrutiny, I feel shy, yet exultant. Love. We’re in love. I want to laugh out loud. Even this total stranger can see it.

  The nurse hands Colin the glass of water. She presses a pill from its foil backing. Her smile widens. “Today’s my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” she says.

  Colin and I murmur our congratulations.

  “Twenty-five years!” She shakes her head in disbelief. “It went by like that.” She snaps her fingers. “You remind me of me and Harry, back when we first met.” Behind those pink frames, her eyes glow at the memory. “Ooh, you should’ve seen him,” she tells me. “He had long, thick blond hair. Like a Viking.” Another laugh. “He’s bald now. And a little . . .” She holds her hands out around her belly. “Not that I care.” She pats her own solid hips. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but when I see him, I still get that old fluttery feeling . . .” She wiggles her fingers. “It’s like we’re still twenty-five, on the inside.”

  She hands Colin the pill. He swallows it dutifully. The nurse checks something on his chart. “Good,” she says, approvingly. She hands him another pill. “You’ll soon be fit to go home and get on with your lives.” She collects the empty glass and retreats, whistling.

  I call out: “Happy anniversary!”

  At the door, she pauses and turns. “Thanks. Now remember, let him rest,” she warns me. Her departing shoes squeak on the linoleum.

  Colin laughs. “Twenty-five years,” he says, wonderingly. From the way he says it, I know he’s imagining us, way down the line. Grayer, wrinklier, maybe fatter or thinner. He squeezes my hand. His eyes sparkle like peridots. “How about one more kiss?” he asks, slyly.

  I tip forward. My whole body tingles. The butterflies aren’t just in my stomach but swirling through every inch of me. A full monarch migration, in the springtime.

  When the kiss finally ends, Colin’s cheeks are tinged pink.

  He exhales, happily. “Let’s go somewhere remote,” he says. “With no TV, phone, or internet.”

  I nod. That’s exactly what I had in mind. Someplace to recover both in body and spirit. Although snuggled close to Colin, I know it doesn’t matter where we go, so long as we’re together.

  “I should go,” I say, reluctantly.

  He brushes my cheek. “Please, not yet.”

  I slip off my shoes and tuck my feet up onto the bed. I lean against him. His arm tightens around me. Beneath my cheek, his warm chest rises and falls. His steady breaths tickle my ear. I shut my eyes, feel myself start to drift, pulled between tiredness and exhilaration.

  I’m on the cusp of a new adventure, a journey into unknown lands. And yet I’ve also come home.

  I fall asleep smiling.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  While writing is solitary, creating a book takes teamwork. Many thanks to everyone who has brought yet another dream to life: my longtime friend and mentor, Deborah Nolan; my brilliant and beautiful agent, Sharon Bowers, and her Folio Lit colleagues; my savvy editor Dan Mayer, and the rest of the Seventh Street Books team, especially Marianna Vertullo.

  I’m a reader and writer thanks to my intrepid parents, Gisela and Gerry Ray, who always found money for books—even when we only had lawn chairs (and books!) to sit on. Endless thanks to my husband, Thien Nguyen, for his energy, optimism, and support. And thanks to my kids—V, S, and E, who inspired me to create Toby Wong.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in the UK and raised in Canada, Elka lives with her family in Central Vietnam. Her previous books include the first Toby Wong novel Divorce Is Murder; the noir thriller Saigon Dark; and a light romantic mystery, Hanoi Jane. When Elka’s not reading or writing she’s in the ocean.