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It should not have come as such a revelation.

“Simmy, Saturday night when I was looking for John, you said a message came for him. What happened to that message?”

She had to think about it. “It was lying on the kitchen counter. The doctor took it with him. He put it in his pocket.”

There had been no mention of a note in John’s possessions.

“You said you thought it was hand-delivered. Was there an envelope?” Archie asked.

Simmy’s forehead crinkled in thought. “I think… Yes. There was an envelope. A plain white envelope.”

“Was there writing on the envelope? Did you recognize the writing?”

She shook her head. “It was just his name. John. Printed. There was nothing special about it.”

“Did you see him open the envelope?”

“Yes.”

“Did he seem—how did he seem?”

She seemed confused by the question. “Nothing, really. He raised his eyebrows as though he was a little surprised, maybe? But not completely surprised.”

Archie considered. “What happened to the envelope? Did he take that, too?”

Simmy’s eyes widened. “No. He crumpled it up. Absent-mindedly, I think. He tossed it in the trash.”

The forensics team would—should—have collected the trash. There was no mention of the note or envelope in the case file.

“Did you mention the note to police when you were interviewed?”

Simmy nodded. “I did.”

“Did you mention the envelope?”

She looked guilty. “I never thought of it again. They didn’t ask.”

Uneasy suspicion had Archie asking, “Did the police collect the trash from that night?”

“I don’t think so. No. I think everything was still there when I arrived this afternoon.”

Without a word Archie moved past her and strode down the hall to the kitchen. The overhead light was on, illuminating gleaming counters, polished floor, and immaculate appliances. Everything in apple-pie order, as Simmy used to refer to it. He went to the sink, banging open the white cupboard doors that concealed the trash and recycling bins.

“I emptied everything into the trash bag by the back door,” Simmy said from behind him. “I was going to toss the bag in one of the barrels on my way out.”

Archie turned to the door, located the trash bag, and carried it to the kitchen table where, to Simmy’s horror, he emptied the dirty wrappers, dripping paper cups, crumpled napkins, and stained paper plates across the glossy wooden surface.

“Archie!”

“I’ll clean it up,” he told her. “Can I borrow a pair of gloves?”

Simmy set the carton of half-and-half on the sink counter and brought Archie a pair of orange latex gloves. She watched in silence in as he delicately sifted through the napkins, paper plates and towels, and empty food containers. He located the crumpled ball of envelope without any trouble.

He didn’t need to ask; Simmy handed over a gallon-size freezer bag.

Archie dropped the crumpled envelope into the plastic bag, pulled out his phone, and called Beau.

This time Beau answered on the second ring.