The Last Handful of Clover - Book 1: The Hereafter

1.02 Crime Scene

June 5, 8:15 pm

The Salt Lake valley has always been a world apart.

Geographically, it occupies the northeastern corner of the Great Basin, bordered to the east by a wall of mountains that rises impressively from the valley floor, and to the west by deserts whose extreme weather bleached the bones of early settlers from the Rockies to the Sierras. The valley, and indeed most of the Great Basin, was long seen as the last great trial to be endured by those seeking their riches and fame in the West.

So when the Mormons made it their own in the mid-19th century, there was not a lot of competition or complaint.

Let them have it, the world thought. It will make an amusing place to pass through on our way to meet our destiny.

In this way, Salt Lake City was always the Stone in the Stream.

Hundreds of thousands of settlers rushed through and around the city, descending from the Wasatch, and barely pausing to pick up supplies as they pushed to the gold fields or the promise of rich farmland to the west. Salt Lake was the last dry rock of stability in the rushing river of the great westward migration. Brigham Young and his followers were content to settle on that rock, to build upon it, and create their paradise apart from their persecutors.

For the first time since Richard's murder, Keith and Michelle had mustered the courage to have a dinner out.

They'd decided to get pizza at The Pie, just off the University campus, because it was their favorite haunt when they had been in College together, almost a decade ago. They hadn't been back there in months, despite it being a regular ritual during their undergraduate years. But as she looked around their old pizza joint, Michelle realized that nothing much had changed.

For the past thirty minutes, Michelle had tried hard to keep the conversation light, and mostly she had succeeded. She even thought that she saw flashes of her oldest friend peeking through the grief, and for the first time since Richard's death, she could almost imagine a time when they would both be healed from what they had endured. But now, toying with the pizza that they had barely touched, she looked over at Keith and saw that the sadness had once again fallen over him like a cloak. She knew her own tears were still on a hair trigger, but she worried more for Keith than for herself. What he had been through was far more traumatic, and his loss greater than any she could imagine.

"Tell me about the house," Keith finally said, putting down his half-eaten slice of pizza.

Michelle stopped chewing, surprised at the question. Of course, neither of them had been back to the house since Richard's death. Keith knew that her husband Pil was taking care of everything in the Avenues, and he'd seemed content to not know any of the details. Michelle paused, unsure how to respond. "What do you want to know, honey?"

Keith toyed with the greasy slice on his plate. "I assume there was police tape. Have they taken it down? Have they let anybody inside?"

Michelle took a deep breath. "Actually, just this morning. It's officially... no longer a crime scene." She regretted the term the second she uttered it and saw Keith wince. His home—the home he had shared with the man he loved for ten years—reduced to those two words.