C Is for Corpse

magic trick.
    "Can you think who he might have given it to?"
    "Nuh-un." She sat back on the bed, pinching her nose shut. She wet her index finger and cleaned the surface of the mirror, running her fingertip across her gums then, like a remedy for teething pains. She reached for her wineglass and settled back against the bed pillows, lighting a cigarette.
    "God, that's great," I said. "You're tagging all the bases today. Do a little coke, knock back some wine, cigarettes. They're going to have to run you through Detox before you hit Three South again." I knew I was baiting her, but she got on my nerves and I was spoiling for a fight, which I suspected would feel better than .grief.
    "Fuck you," she said, bored.
    "'Mind if I sit down?" I asked.
    She gestured permission and I perched on the edge of the bed, looking around with interest.
    "What happened to your stash?" I asked.
    "What stash?"
    "The one you kept in there," I said, indicating the bed table drawer.
    She stared. "I never kept a stash in there."
    I loved the little note of righteous indignation. "That's funny," I said. "I saw Dr. Kleinert pull a whole Ziploc bag full of pills out of there."
    "When?" she said in disbelief.
    "Monday night when they carted you away. Quaaludes, Placidyls, Tuinals, the works." Actually, I didn't really believe the pills were hers, but I was curious to hear what she had to say.
    She stared at me for a moment more, then eased out a mouthful of smoke, which she neatly channeled up her nose. "I don't do any of those," she said.
    "What'd you take Monday night?"
    "Valium. Prescription."
    "Dr. Kleinert gave you a prescription for Valium?" I asked.
    She got up with annoyance and started pacing the room. "I don't need your bullshit, Kinsey. My stepbrother was buried today in case your memory's short. I got other things on my mind."
    "Were you involved with Bobby?"
    "No, I wasn't 'involved' with Bobby. What do you mean, like some kind of sexual thing? Like was I having an affair?"
    "Yeah, like that."
    "God, you are so imaginative. For your information, I didn't even think about him that way."
    "Maybe he thought about you that way."
    She stopped pacing. "Says who?"
    "Just a theory of mine. You know he loved you. Why wouldn't he have sexual feelings as well?"
    "Oh come on. Did Bobby say that?"
    "No, but I saw his reaction the night you were hospitalized. I didn't think it was strictly brotherly love I was looking at. In fact, I asked Glen about it at the time, but she said she didn't think there was anything going on."
    "Well, there wasn't."
    "Too bad. Maybe you could have saved each other."
    She rolled her eyes, giving me a look – God, adults are such geeks! – but she was restless and distracted. She located an ashtray on the chest of drawers and stubbed out her cigarette. She lifted the lid to a music box and let a few notes of "Laras Theme" escape before she snapped it shut again. When she looked at me again, she had tears in her eyes and she seemed embarrassed by that.
    She pushed away from the chest of drawers. "I gotta pack my stuff"
    She went into the closet and hauled out a canvas duffel. She opened her top dresser drawer and snatched up a stack of underpants, which she shoved into the duffel. She bumped the drawer shut and opened the next one, grabbing T-shirts, jeans, socks.
    I got up and moved to the door, turning back with my hand on the knob. "Nothing lasts, you know. Not even misery. "
    "Yeah, sure. Especially not mine. What do you think I do drugs for, my health?"
    "You're tough, right?"
    "Shit, why don't you go work in a rescue mission? You got the line down pat."
    "One day some happiness is going to come into your life in spite of you. You ought to keep yourself alive so you can enjoy it."
    "Sorry. No sale. I'm not interested."
    I shrugged. "So die. It won't be that big a deal. It sure won't be the loss that Bobby's death was. So far, you haven't given the world a thing."
    I opened the door.
    I heard her bump a drawer shut. "Hey, Kinsey?"
    I looked back at her. Her smirk was almost self-mocking, but not quite.
    "Want to do a line of coke? My treat."
    I left the room, closing the door quietly. I felt like slamming it, but what would be the point?
    I went down to the living room. I was hungry and I needed a glass of wine. There were only five or six people left. Sufi sat next to Glen on one of the sofas. I didn't recognize anybody else. I crossed to the buffet table that had been set up on the far side of the room. The