C Is for Corpse

fascinated by the notion, turning slightly so she could see her own flat behind. She studied her face again, watching herself take a drag of her cigarette. She did a quick shrug. Everything looked fine to her.
    "Could we talk about this murder attempt?" I said.
    She padded back to the bed and flopped down again. "Somebody's after him. Definitely," she said. She stubbed out her^ cigarette, with a yawn.
    "What makes you say that?"
    "The vibes."
    "Aside from the vibes," I said.
    "Oh balls, you don't believe us either," she said. She turned sideways and settled against the pillows, folding an arm under her head.
    "Is someone after you too?"
    "Nun-un. I don't think so. Just him."
    "But why would someone do that? I'm not saying I don't believe you. I'm looking for a place to start and I want to hear what you have to say."
    "I'd have to think about it some," she said and then she was quiet.
    It took me a few minutes to realize she'd passed out. Jesus, what was she on?

Chapter 4
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    I waited in the hallway, shoes in hand, while Bobby covered her with a blanket and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently.
    "What's the story?" I said. "She's O.K. She was just up late last night."
    "What are you talking about? She's half dead!" He shifted uneasily. "You really think so?"
    "Bobby, would you look at her? She's a skeleton. She's doing drugs, alcohol, cigarettes. You know she's smoking dope on top of that. How's she going to survive?"
    "I don't know. I guess I didn't think she was that bad off" he said. He was not only young, he was naive, or maybe she'd been going under so gradually that he couldn't see the shape she was in.
    "How long has she been anoretic?"
    "Since Rick died, I guess. Maybe some before that. He was her boyfriend and she took it pretty hard."
    "Is that what Kleinert's seeing her for? The anorexia?"
    "I guess. I never really asked. She was a patient of his before I started seeing him."
    A voice cut in. "Is there some problem?" Derek Wenner was approaching from the gallery, highball in hand. He was a man who'd been good-looking once. Of medium height, fair-haired, his gray eyes magnified by glasses with steel-blue frames. He was in his late forties now, by a charitable estimate, a solid thirty pounds overweight. He had the puffy, florid complexion of a man who drinks too much and his hairline had receded in a wide U that left a runner of thinning hair down the center, clipped short and brushed to one side. The excess pounds had given him a double chin and a wide neck that made the collar of his dress shirt seem tight. His pleated gabardine pants looked expensive and so did his loafers, which were tan and white, with vents cut into the leather. He'd been wearing a sport coat earlier, but he'd taken it off, along with his tie. He unbuttoned his collar with relief.
    "What's going on? Where's Kitty? Your mother wants to know why she hasn't joined us."
    Bobby seemed embarrassed. "I don't know. She was talking to us and she fell asleep."
    "Fell asleep" seemed a bit understated to me. Kitty's face had been the color of a plastic ring I sent away for once as a kid. The ring was white, but if you held it to the light for a while and then cupped your hand over it, it glowed faintly green. This, to me, did not connote good health.
    "Hell, I better talk to her," he said. I had to guess he'd had his hands full with her. He opened the door and went into Kitty's room.
    Bobby gave me a look that was part dismay and part anxiety. I glanced in through the open door. Derek put his drink on the table and sat down on Kitty's bed.
    "Kitty?"
    He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. There was no response. "Hey, come on, honey. Wake up."
    He shot me a worried look.
    He gave Kitty a rough shake. "Hey, come on. Wake up."
    "You want me to get one of the doctors from downstairs?" I said. He shook her again. I didn't wait for a response.
    I slipped my shoes on and left my handbag by the door, heading for the stairs.
    When I reached the living room, Glen Callahan glanced over at me, apparently sensing that something was wrong.
    She moved forward. "Where's Bobby?"
    "Upstairs with Kitty. I think it might be smart to have somebody take a look at her. She passed out and your husband's having trouble rousing her."
    "I'll get Leo."
    I watched while she approached Dr. Kleinert, murmuring to him. He glanced over at me and then he excused himself from his conversation. The three of us went upstairs.
    Bobby had joined Derek at