Inherit the Dead

day. A station was always thick with the fug and stink of cigarettes, and, even though it seemed like a lifetime ago, he suddenly found himself wanting one.
    No, not suddenly.
    Ever since he’d stood looking down at Julia Drusilla, at what was left of her.
    It was guilt as much as disgust, he knew that. After all, it didn’t seem like five minutes since he had been thinking that the woman might have been trying to kill her own daughter, to kill him, and now they were hosing her off the sidewalk. Scraping bits into a bag. How could he have gotten it so wrong? When it came to trusting people, he had always been slow off the mark and with damn good reason, but up until now he’d always been able to trust himself at least, to have faith in his own judgment. Whatever else happened, he’d always been able to count on that.
    He put a hand on his knee and pressed, tried to stop the tremor in his leg.
    Now, Perry wasn’t so sure.
    A door opened a little way down the hall, and Perry looked up to see Athena Williams stepping out of what he guessed to be the ladies’ restroom. He watched the nanny straighten her skirt and softly dab a hand against her hair before moving toward the stairs.
    Perry stood up and hurried to catch up with her.
    “May I speak to you, Ms. Williams?”
    The woman glanced at him, kept on walking. “You were rude to Angel back there, Mr. Christo. I have nothing to say to you.”
    “I just want the truth,” Perry said. “Isn’t that what we all want?”
    “Some things are better off left alone, Mr. Christo.”
    “What kinds of things?”
    “You don’t know this family.”
    “Oh, I think I’m starting to . . . ”
    The nanny began walking a little faster suddenly. Perry kept pace with her and dropped a hand onto her shoulder. She stopped and looked at him, waited for him to remove his hand. “I love Angel,” she said. “Do you understand?”
    “That’s very touching.”
    “I’ve got nothing else to say.”
    “Do you love her enough to lie for her?”
    “Good-bye, Mr. Christo . . . ”
    Perry could do nothing but watch her leave, before he turned and walked back the way he’d come. The nanny’s face right before she’d marched away certainly suggested that he’d touched a nerve.
    He was good at that, but it didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere.
    He was a few feet away from the door to the interview room when it opened and Angel and Norman Loki stepped out into the hall. They waited for a few seconds, their heads bowed, until Detective Henry Watson followed them, closing the door behind him.
    The argument downstairs had petered out, and it was quiet suddenly.
    Perry was pleased that his old friend had called them back for a second round. There were certainly a few questions— more than a few—that needed answering, and Watson rarely gave anyone an easy ride, least of all when there was a body involved.
    Watson cleared his throat and reached out to shake hands with Norman Loki. He said, “Once again, I’m sorry for your loss. And for having to put you through this.”
    “Thank you,” Loki said.
    “We won’t need to bother you again.”
    “It’s really no trouble.”
    “You need a ride anywhere?”
    Angel laid a hand on Watson’s arm, the fingernails bloodred. “That’s sweet of you,” she said. “But we’ll be fine.”
    “You’re kidding me, right?”
    They all turned to look at Perry, who was shaking his head in disbelief. He had been talking to himself as much as anything, but his words had carried, and he was fine with that.
    After returning Perry’s stare for a second or two longer than anyone else would find comfortable, Angel turned back to Henry Watson. “Well, then . . . ”
    Loki nodded. “Thanks again for being so thorough.”
    Perry had to fight the laugh that rose up, foul-tasting, in his throat.
    Angel linked arms with her father, and the two of them turned away from Henry Watson. They paused for a few moments, each taking a deep breath. Then, at a pace that was nicely pitched between funereal and unseemly, and taking care to keep their eyes on the floor directly ahead of them, they began walking down the hall toward Perry.
    With her hair tied back and now with an oversize pair of very dark sunglasses, she looks every inch the grieving daughter, Perry thought, watching her. Or an actress playing the role of grieving daughter. She leaned against her father, who looked equally stricken, and, as they walked, Norman Loki appeared to be getting as