I get everything off him, shoes and socks and outer clothes. His watch and cufflinks go onto the bedside table. “Lie back,” I tell him, and then I tuck his legs under the duvet.
I stand over him and gaze down for several long minutes. His mouth is slack. His eyes flutter once, twice, and then close. His chest rises. His chest falls.
When I’m sure he’s finally out, I let my mask drop.
“I hope you dream about her, motherfucker,” I spit down at him. “I hope she’s the last thing you ever see.”
Then I leave the room.
In the kitchen, I clear the dishes into the sink. I rinse Raymond’s bourbon glass and his water glass. I run them under hot water until the inside of the bourbon glass is clean of any residue at all.
I take the other pill out of my apron pocket. Half a milligram—just enough t
