I followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the yellow Formica table.

Julian set a blue stoneware mug of herbal tea in front of me and took the chair across from mine.

“I owe you an explanation about that receipt you found in the garage,” Julian said.

He adjusted his watch strap, pulling the leather tongue tight before letting it snap back.

“I was up at three in the morning last week having a terrible anxiety attack,” he said, adjusting the strap a second time.

“I was looking up medical equipment online and clicked on an order estimate on a regional funeral supply website.”