C Is for Corpse

inward, much in the way one does at the end of an attack of hiccups.
    She sighed. "Oh God, how will I get through this?" she said, and the tears welled up again, splashing down her face. She regained control after a moment and went through the mop-up process again, shaking her head. "Jesus. Shit. I don't think I can do this, Kinsey. You know? Its just too hard and I don't have that kind of strength."
    "You want me to call anyone?"
    "No, not now. It's too late and what's the point? In the morning, I'll have Derek get in touch with Sufi. She'll come."
    "What about Kleinert? You want me to let him know?"
    She shook Her head. "Bobby couldn't stand him. Just let it be. He'd find out soon enough. Is Derek back?" Her tone was anxious now, her face tense.
    "I don't think so. You want a drink?"
    "No, but help yourself if you like. The liquor's in there."
    "Maybe later." I wanted something, but I wasn't sure what it was. Not a drink. I was afraid alcohol would eat through the thin veneer of self-control. The last thing in the world she needed was to have to turn around and comfort me. I sat down in the chair across from her and an image flashed into my mind. I remembered Bobby bending down to say good night to her just two nights ago. He had turned automatically so he could offer her the good side of his face. It had been one of his last nights sleep on this earth, but neither of them had known that, nor had I. I glanced up at her and she was looking at me as if she knew what was going on in my head. I glanced away, but not quickly enough. Something in her face spilled over me like light through a swinging door. Sorrow shot through the gap, catching me off-guard, and I burst into tears.

Chapter 12
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    Everything happens for a reason, but that doesn't mean there's a point. The next few days were a nightmare, the more so as mine was only a peripheral role in the pageantry of Bobby's death. Because I'd appeared in the first moments of her grief, Glen Callahan seemed to fix on me, as though I might provide a solace for her pain.
    Dr. Kleinert agreed to release Kitty until after the burial, and an attempt was made to reach Bobbys natural father overseas, but he never responded and nobody seemed to care. Meanwhile, hundreds of people streamed through the funeral home: Bobbys friends, old high-school classmates, family friends and business associates, all the town dignitaries, members of the various boards Glen served on. The Who's Who of Santa Teresa. After that first night, Glen was totally composed – calm, gracious, tending to every detail of Bobby's funeral. It would be done properly. It would be done in the best of taste. I would be on hand throughout.
    I had thought Derek and Kitty would resent my constant presence, but both seemed relieved. Glen's single-mindedness must have been a frightening prospect to them.
    Glen ordered Bobbys casket closed, but I saw him for a moment at the funeral home after his body had been "prepared." In some ways, I needed that glimpse to convince myself that he was really dead. God, the stillness of the flesh when life has gone. Glen stood there beside me, her gaze fixed on Bobby's face, her own expression as blank and inanimate as his. Something had left her with his death. She was unflinching, but her grip on my arm tightened as the lid to the casket was closed.
    "Good-bye, baby," she whispered. "I love you."
    I turned away quickly.
    Derek approached from behind and I saw him move as though to touch her. She didn't turn her head, but she radiated a rage so limitless that he kept his distance, intimidated by the force of it. Kitty stood against the back wall, stony, her face blotchy from tears wept in solitude. Somehow I suspected that she and her father wouldn't remain in Glen's life for long. Bobby's death had accelerated the household decay. Glen seemed impatient to be alone, intolerant of the requirements of ordinary intercourse. They were takers. She had nothing left to give. I scarcely knew the woman, but it seemed clear to me that she was suddenly operating by another set of premises. Derek watched her uneasily, sensing, perhaps, that he wasn't part of this new scheme, whatever it was.
    Bobby was buried on Saturday. The church services were mercifully short. Glen had selected the music and a few passages from various non-Biblical sources. I took my cue from her, surviving the eulogy by neatly disconnecting myself from what was said. I wasn't going to deal with Bobby's death today. I