Free Color Blind by Colby Marshall

evening. “Dr. Ramey. Always a pleasure.”
    She slipped a picture out of a file folder she carried, but she laid it on the table facedown, the folder on top of it. “Who’s Thadius Grogan, Isaac?”
    Despite himself, Isaac smiled. She didn’t want to give an inch, did she? “Are you really here to talk to me about Grogan, Dr. Ramey?”
    “You pointed us toward him for a reason, Isaac. I’m playing the hand you dealt.”
    “Do you actually think I’ll answer that question for you? I knew you guys had it easy, but you’ve at least gotta try for it, Jenna.”
    Her eye twitched. “We’re on a first-name basis now?”
    His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “You’ve been on one with me for hours now.”
    She didn’t answer, but he could smell the perspiration under her arms through the cheap deodorant she’d no doubt swiped on haphazardly this morning. He pictured her in her bathroom, freshly out of the shower, standing in her sensible bra and panties in front of the mirror and checking out her towel-dried hair. She’d scrub her teeth with the kind of abhorrent-tasting toothpaste made by a company that manufactured baking soda and cat litter.
    Jenna plucked the picture from under the folder, flipped it over, and slid it across the table toward him. “Know her?”
    A striking picture of a girl met his vision. Even as gray as the morgue table beneath her, she was prettier than half the girls Isaac had taken to bed. He leaned in toward the photo, then away, squinting. “I don’t have my glasses, of course, but I’d venture to say no.”
    “You don’t wear glasses.”
    “And you already know I know who she is.”
    Jenna leaned back and folded her arms. “If you know her, why’d you lie about it?”
    I didn’t. “You’re the psychiatrist. You tell me.”
    The good doctor didn’t know what to say to that, so her response was to push back from the table and pace. “How do you know Emily Grogan?”
    Isaac leaned back, tapped his toes. Question-and-answer sessions entertained more when you answered with more questions. “Don’t you already know enough from showing me the picture, Doctor? You were showing me the picture to see if I’d salivate over her dead body, right? Get excited, pupils dilate? Maybe start humping the table? Well, no, Dr. Ramey. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not excited by Emily Grogan’s death pictures, because they don’t help me relive a thing. I had nothing to do with her murder.”
    Her lips pursed a second in annoyance before she controlled them. So fun and easy to make people wiggle, wonder.
    “Does the other shooter have anything to do with Emily Grogan, Isaac? With Thadius?”
    “Now, that’s a good question, Jenna! Gold star.”
    Jenna plopped back into the chair, slid the picture of Emily Grogan back toward her. “Any chance you’d like to tell me how?”
    Not on your life. “We haven’t even talked about why you really came here tonight, Jenna. It was a good question, yes, but if I told you everything now, it’d ruin all the fun.”
    “Right! Of course! What was I thinking?” Jenna said loudly, her voice just the right cocktail of gusto and sarcasm.
    Come on, Dr. Ramey. Take a bite.
    “Maybe you’ll tell me how you know Emily Grogan if we talk about why I really came. You seem to be into that sort of thing.”
    Isaac licked his lips. Tricky. “Don’t put too many words in my mouth, Doctor. But sure, let’s talk some about why you came to visit. You’ll have to ask me, though, because I must say, I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about. Everything isn’t always as it seems, so I want to make sure I clarify . . .”
    Jenna leaned forward. “You contacted my mother. You said you’d talked to her. How?”
    “By letter, Doctor. You know that.”
    Jenna sighed. “I mean before that. How had you talked to her before that? When?”
    Isaac rubbed his chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “You know, it was a while ago. I may not quite