Chapter 4: Mr. April
The next morning, Auckland is missing from the spare room where he has spent the night. He leaves a note for me on the sunroom table that overlooks the Mon River.
Sorry I missed you, guy. Had to run. Be back in town soon. Will let you know when. And don’t forget, I still want to be Mr. March. Until then. A.P.
Perturbed, I crumple his note up and toss it away. “Until next time, buddy,” I whisper to no one but myself.
I check the house to see if anything is missing because of his sticky fingers. All is fine. I’m pleased he hasn’t stolen from me. Thank God.
Coffee rules at dawn, so I have a cup. I sit at my home office’s desk, a tiny space filled with black-and-white photographs of the African veldt, and read my itinerary for the day on my phone. I have two meetings
