Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

Raymond added.

“I do not know the combination,” I said, looking at my jars of dried pigments on the shelf.

“Julian changed it when I was sick, and he refused to give me the new numbers. He said my memory was too unreliable to hold them.”

Raymond stopped pacing and looked at me, his dry, gravelly baritone filled with quiet determination.

“Think, Clara,” continue reading …