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lovemaking. My mouth dropped open in shock because it wasn’t every day that I casually strolled onto a scene of two people obviously engaged in what appeared to be a very fulfilling sexual tryst. The man was on top of the woman, and his stark white derriere greeted me as I faced them. The whiteness of his skin was made all the more evident by the darkness of the woman’s.
    Suffice to say, I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever happened to Adele must have had something to do with jealousy and hurt feelings over what I imagined was an affair. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if this naked man could be Peter?
    I wasn’t really sure what to do, so I just continued to stand there, awkwardly gaping at the vision. Now, the woman’s arms and legs were wrapped around the man’s middle. I felt completely embarrassed for standing here and watching something so private. I tried reminding myself that I was just a spectator in this situation and no one could see me. Nope. Still awkward. Something has to happen soon, I consoled myself as I wondered what exactly I was waiting for. And that being the case, it was simply a matter of waiting for that crucial moment to arrive. Then I could go back to Peter and explain what happened to his first wife. But speaking of Adele, I had no clue where she was. And then it dawned on me … maybe the woman on the bed was Adele? I wasn’t sure why, but I always assumed Adele was a white woman. I had no clue why I expected that, maybe because Peter was white, and from what I could remember, the fifties weren’t exactly as forward-thinking or as tolerant as the world currently was.
    Ashamed for my stereotypical assumptions, I focused my attention back on the eager couple in front of me, waiting for the moment that I was here for—the murder. As the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes ticked by, I grew more concerned that the moment I anticipated wasn’t coming.
    Maybe I should check out the rest of the house? I thought. Maybe whatever is supposed to happen won’t take place in the bedroom? Then I shook my head as I thought better of it. Of course it’s going to happen in the bedroom! It’s just a matter of someone walking in here and discovering what’s going on. So you’re just going to have to wait patiently until that happens …
    I wasn’t prepared for the moment that the woman on the bed suddenly craned her neck to the side and looked right at me! I felt my mouth drop open as my heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat, my entire body going into shock. And the shock wasn’t due to the woman being able to see me, either. No, my shock was completely reserved for the fact that I recognized her.
    Guarda?
    As soon as that stunning revelation dawned on me, my heartbeat kicked into overdrive. My breathing was instantly reduced to short gasps and I felt like I could pass out. I opened my mouth as I took in frantic gulps of air, which only made me more light-headed. Still, Guarda continued to stare at me, making it feel like I really were standing right there in Peter’s bedroom, only sixty years earlier.
    Guarda appeared much younger, and her flawless skin had yet to see a single wrinkle, while her dark brown hair lacked even a trace of grey. Her deep chocolate eyes would eventually be clouded by cataracts, but I had no doubt that this could be anyone else except Guarda.
    I felt rooted in place as I watched Guarda studying me with her penetrating yet cold and soulless gaze. If her facial features hadn’t revealed her identity, the expression in her eyes would have. Her eyes really hadn’t changed; they were every bit as calculating as they always had been.
    When she released her arms from around the man’s body, he didn’t seem to notice, and continued thrusting inside her, as if oblivious to anything else. She, meanwhile, didn’t seem to pay him any attention. No, her focus was exclusively fastened on me.
    Her hands briefly disappeared from sight, but moments