6
Julian stared in the direction of the kitchen, where the murmur of Father Pete, Drew, and Sergeant Jones’s voices were indistinguishable. After a moment, he sat down beside the china cabinet, on the Bidjar rug covering Holly’s living room floor. The rug, which I remembered Holly had inherited from her grandmother, was a gorgeously intricate maroon, navy, and cream design. She’d also inherited the furniture: the cherry end tables and butler’s tray, now covered with statuary, plus a china cabinet, whose shelves displayed rows of Holly’s plates. I recognized a pattern we’d eaten off of once: “some of Granny’s Haviland,” Holly had airily called the dishes, with their sprays of tiny pink flowers on a white background. Interspersed with those plates were others with a religious, specifically
