Henry took a big swig of his Manhattan. He forgot how much he missed making a good cocktail. He loved all the steps, how methodical you had to be. The ice, the pour, the clink of the shaker top, the adultery. The shake, the ice, the pour, the homicide. The clink of the spoon, the twist of orange, the double homicide. The splash of the cherry on a toothpick when it hit the drink, signaling it was ready. The bartender didn’t have any toothpicks. One detail Claudine managed to overlook. The party was toothpick-less. But the drink still tasted wonderful. Closing his eyes, he took another long, necessary sip. The warmth spread throughout his body, a reunion he thought would never come. An old friend.

He got up to get another one. Then the lights went out, plunging the room into semi-darkness. The flames of the fire and scattering of candles the only sources of light. Gasps and nervous whispers. Pip started barking. Dave quickly hurried to Zara’s side. In the limited light, the outside became much brighter, the trees and mountains gaining an eerie definition visible through the snow.

“Must be the storm,” Jack Alpine said. “Knocked out power.”

“Do we have any more candles?” Mrs. Tiggleman said.

“I’ll get them,” Henry said. “I’m already up.”

“I know where they are,” Jules said. “I’ll go with you.”

The two of them walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

“They’re in here,” Jules said, opening a side door. “In the pantry.”

She quickly shoved him inside, and unsuccessfully flipped the light switch a few times. Nothing. Still, she closed the door. The space was cramped, just barely enough room for the two of them. It smelled of spices and her perfume. Henry felt along the top shelf and found the box of dinner candles. He struck a long match on the side of the box and lit one.

“Henry,” Jules said, “I need to confess something. I … I know what happened.”

She knows what happened? She was the last person Henry would have guessed. Which of course made her the obvious choice. Wasn’t that also how it worked in those Agatha Christie books? The kindest, gentlest character turned out to be the duplicitous mastermind. It was ironic: all those late nights in the office, he’d been tempted to tell her, and he didn’t have to. She already knew. Now he was what, supposed to confess? Redeem himself a tiny bit by turning himself in?

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“Everybody in the office talks about it behind your back,” she said.

“What? Everybody knows? Why hasn’t anyone said anything?”

“They don’t want to embarrass you. It happened so long ago. They figure it isn’t their business.”

Henry was confused.

“Jules, what are you talking about?”

“Claudine’s affair with Steve. Wait a second, you did know, right? Oh god, please tell me you knew.”