After my session with Allison, I return to my apartment and spend some time at the piano. All the while, I mull over Allison’s contention that my relationship with Gabriel is a gift from Charlotte rather than something forever tainted by her murder. I know Charlotte would like me to think of it that way. I can almost hear her say it: “If I’m going to have to be murdered, at least you should get a handsome man out of it.”

Then Lauren chimes in. “And I’m glad my getting killed helped remind the universe that it owed you one, which is why you’re getting the Saturday-night gig at Lava.”

I laugh to myself, envisioning my Grammy Award acceptance speech: I’d like to thank the people in my life who were murdered, without whom I would never have had anything good ever happen to me.

After I’ve spent enough time feeling sorry for myself, I decide that it would be therapeutic to do something productive. I begin playing the song I had started to write the other day.

Gabriel walks through the door like a beaten man. His face has a drawn, haggard cast to it that I remember all too well from when he was working Charlotte’s case.

“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet,” I say.

He laughs. “Long day.”

He retreats to the bedroom to put away his gun, a ritual he follows religiously. Even though I’m wearing pajamas, I know Gabriel isn’t going to change clothing. He doesn’t keep anything here except his work clothes and some underwear. He sleeps in boxer shorts, if that.

Sure enough, a minute later he’s back, still dressed exactly the same.

“You want me to make you something to eat, or to order something in?”

“No,” he says, heading to the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator. “I’m just going to have a beer for now.”

He settles into the armchair that sits beside the sofa I’m occupying. After taking a long slug of beer, he asks, “So how was your day, dear?”

“I had Allison this morning. We talked a little about how I should see your presence in my life as a gift from Charlotte.”

“And here I thought I was God’s gift to you.”

He says it with a smirk, which tells me he’s kidding. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t on some level know it’s true. After all, you can’t get as much attention from the opposite sex as comes Gabriel’s way and not have it go to your head at least a little.

“If you’re not interested in hearing about my inner life, you should tell me about your day.” I say it with enough edge that Gabriel knows I’m mildly annoyed.

“No, I’m sorry. I am interested. Why am I a gift from Charlotte?”