He just stares at her with unseeing eyes. His mind tries to grasp meaning from her response. The phone rings in his ear but he does not hear the operator that answers.

Calmly she takes the phone from his hand. She mumbles an apology for dialing 911 by mistake and hangs up the receiver. A residue of soapy dishwater glistens on the handle.

“Just leave it alone, honey,” she says in that tone that women use with small children. “Everything will be fine now.”

His mind still reeling from the discovery and his wife’s cryptic response, he just stares at the jewels of moisture on the phone. Somewhere in his mind there is a part that understands and rejoices with pride in his wife’s initiative.

Many hours later the silence of sunset is shattered. Echoes of a gunshot ring throughout the neighborhood. There is a man on the ground. His clothes are shabby and reek of stale sweat and alcohol.

“Finally,” the wife says as she rolls over in bed with a smile on her face.