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once the dryness was gone.
    ‘A psychologist might wonder why you play with it so much.’
    She reddened. ‘I don’t.’
    ‘My mistake.’
    ‘Yes, it is.’
    Brennan, her fiancé, was a big lug who adored the very ground she walked on, but they had been engaged for so long that the priest earmarked to conduct the wedding ceremony had died in the interim. Somebody in the relationship was dragging heels on the way to the altar, and I wasn’t sure that it was Brennan.
    ‘You’re not eating your muffin. I kind of expected it to be reduced to crumbs right about now.’
    ‘I’ll eat it later.’
    ‘Okay. Maybe I should have bought raspberry after all.’
    I said nothing more, but waited for her to speak.
    ‘Why are you wearing a suit?’ she said.
    ‘I was testifying.’
    ‘In church?’
    ‘Funny. In court. The Denny Kraus thing.’
    Denny Kraus had killed a man in a parking lot off Forest Avenue eighteen months earlier, in an argument over a dog. Apparently the victim, Philip Espvall, had sold Denny Kraus the animal claiming it was a thoroughbred pointer, a gun dog, but the first time Denny fired a gun near the dog it headed for the hills and was never seen again. Denny had taken this badly, and had come looking for Espvall at the Great Lost Bear, which happened to be the bar in which I worked occasionally when money was scarce, or when the mood took me, and in which I was tending bar on the night that Denny came looking for Espvall. Words had been exchanged, both men had been ejected, and then I’d called the cops as a precaution. By the time they caught up with the two men, Espvall had a hole in his chest and Denny was standing over him, waving a handgun and shouting about a retarded dog.
    ‘I forgot you were tied up with that,’ said Aimee.
    ‘I was bar manager that night. At least we didn’t serve Denny any alcohol.’
    ‘It sounds pretty clear-cut. His lawyer should tell him to cop a plea.’
    ‘It’s complicated. Denny wants to argue provocation, but his own lawyer is trying to have him declared mentally incompetent to stand trial. Denny doesn’t believe he’s crazy, and so I’m wearing a suit while Denny’s lawyer tries to convince the judge of one thing and his client tries to convince him of the opposite. For what it’s worth, I think Denny’s crazy. The prosecution is playing hardball, but he’s been in and out of the Bangor Mental Health Institute for the past decade.’
    ‘And he still owned a gun.’
    ‘He bought it before he found his way into the state mental health system. It wasn’t like he went into the store drooling and screaming obscenities about dogs.’
    Aimee was distracted by the flapping of wings behind her. A raven was trying to alight on the windowsill but couldn’t get a foothold. It returned instead to the ones in the birch. Four now.
    ‘I don’t like them,’ she said. ‘And these are real big. Have you ever seen ravens that big before?’
    I stood and stepped over to the window. I could barely see the birds through the gap in the blinds, but I didn’t reach out to widen it with my fingers. On the road beyond I saw cars passing, each with at least one child inside, all coming from L’École Française de Maine just up the street. One of the birds turned its head and cawed an objection to their presence.
    ‘How long have they been here?’
    ‘Not long: since shortly before you arrived. I know they’re just birds, but they’re real smart, ravens. Animals have no right to be so smart, and it’s as if these ones are waiting for something.’
    I stared at the ravens for just a moment longer, then returned to my chair.
    ‘Just birds,’ I echoed.
    She sat forward in her chair. We were moving on to the business of the moment.
    ‘Did you see the man sitting outside?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Anything strike you about him?’
    I considered the question.
    ‘He’s nervous, but he’s trying to hide it. Hardly unusual for someone in a lawyer’s office who