Steamed

examples to counter the death-is-hard platitude, I’d become the group’s client. Abandoning my silent rebellion, determined not to flunk out of social work school, I fought platitudes with platitudes. “Actually,” I said, “I feel as though I have done a lot of introspective thinking about the impact that finding the body may have had on me. I’ve talked at length with family and friends, who’ve all been terrific. And I feel that I have tapped into the painful reality of man’s inhumanity to man.”
    “Person’s inhumanity to person,“ someone piped from across the room.
    “Person’s inhumanity to person,” I corrected myself. “I have borne witness to one of the world’s atrocities, murder, and have come out stronger and more driven to understand human nature. And whoever committed this murder may not have had access to proper mental health counseling. There may have been some familial dysfunction that caused an intrapsychic break that led this person to kill another.”
    Thankful that I’d done my psychopathology reading last weekend, I paused dramatically. “But you’re right. Discovering a murder victim was devastating. So I’m glad I have this forum in which to process my feelings.” I covered my mouth and faked a coughing fit. “And I think that part of my recovery process might be to figure out who the murderer is.”
    Gretchen nodded. “It’s important that you have a support system in place to get you through this. So, have you had disturbed sleep, a change of appetite, any generalized anxiety?”
    I shook my head. Gretchen looked disappointed at my failure to display symptoms of stress or depression.
    “I think we should discuss Mr. Dough’s family,” came a voice from the circle. I looked to my right and was happy to see Doug, my bookstore savior. “Hello, everyone. I’m Doug. I m a doctoral student, and I’m your TA for the class.” Rather sneaky of him to covertly embed himself in the group as though he were a first-year student. I liked him.
    A girl named Julie joined in the discussion. She was a petite twenty-something dressed in all black with tiny black eyeglasses that kept sliding down her nose. “I think it’s clear that Chloe is in good shape emotionally and that her real concern here is who the murderer is. She seems to have the sense that this chef that we’re calling Chef Tell”—she rolled her eyes—“isn’t a likely suspect. She’s highly motivated to clear him of any suspicion since he appears to be a possible romantic interest?” She looked at me.
    I nodded slightly.
    She pushed her glasses back in place. “So, Chloe, what about Mr. Dough’s parents?”
    “You think his parents killed him?” I asked.
    “It’s worth exploring. I gather Mr. Dough was well off financially. Maybe they were hoping to get hold of his money.” Julie cocked her head to the side. “If you ask me, I think their behavior following their son’s death was erratic and odd.”
    “They certainly were weird,” I admitted.
    “And I think we should question their inability to grasp the true nature of your relationship with their son. Why were they so eager to believe that you and Dough were engaged? Why, on the day of the funeral, did they latch on to you so intently? I’m sure they must’ve had close family members who would’ve been more appropriate supports to them.”
    “I don’t know why they wanted to believe Mr. Dough and I were a couple. But I didn’t feel like I could tell them the truth. And I don’t think they would’ve believed me even if I tried. They were both so upset that I just went along with it. I mean, what’s the harm?”
    “I’m not sure,” said Julie. “Maybe none. If they thought you were engaged to their son, then maybe they needed to be close to the person they thought was closest to their murdered child. If one or both of them is guilty, though, maybe they clung to you to demonstrate their supposed grief. They couldn’t exactly show up at their son’s funeral jumping for joy.”
    I saw Julie’s point. And liked it. Better Eric’s parents than my Josh. “So you think they were in his will?” I asked. “And they knew that and they killed him? But they seemed to have plenty of money of their own, so why would they need more?”
    Julie had an answer. “It might not be about needing more money but about wanting more. For some people, there’s never enough money. And who knows what their relationship with their son was really