“Okay, let’s hear it. Wait, don’t tell me… it was you that left that package outside the door?” I wondered.
“No, that wasn’t me. God’s honest truth,” Luke insisted, holding his hand up like a Boy Scout. I still believed him despite the odds. Maybe a nurse had done it for Bill after they had tucked him in? Perhaps I could call Melody, the hospice nurse, and ask.
“Okay, then what!?” I asked after racking my brain.
Luke sighed. “It was me that reached out to your mother. I was the one that started this whole thing. Not Marcia,” he confessed.
I sat up, stunned.
“You what? How? I didn’t know that anyone had contacted my mother!?” I exclaimed, surprised.
“I kinda figured.”
“Wait, rewind. How did you even know about my mother?”
Luke stood up and walked towards the kitchen.
“I’ll explain, but first, I need a top-up,” he said as he walked away.
“Luke, seriously. Tell me.”
He returned with a large pour of whiskey and held it out towards me.