Coffee-groundsThey sat in the small café, a smattering of customers sitting in quiet alcoves. Outside the rain came down. Bremen stirred his coffee and watched as the foam gathered around the edge. It was good coffee, not the usual ersatz crap almost all of the cafés served now. He'd paid a lot for it, but that was only natural, of course, given the occasion. This visit from Suzanne, his wife.
“So,” he said without looking up.
“So,” she said.
“Are you here to blame me for Miller's death? You've seen the news, I suppose. Is that why you're here, or are you going to kill me, watch me die, like you said you wanted?”
Her eyes glazed over and for a moment he thought she was about to burst into tears. “I did blame you, but… The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that it just d
