Turn up the Heat

service.
    Snacker distractedly took the last page of my collection of readings and went up front. “ ‘Disorders in this category include failure or extreme difficulty in controlling impulses despite the negative consequences. This includes the failure to stop gambling even if you realize that losing would result in significant negative consequences. This failure to control impulses also refers to the impulse to engage in violent behavior—for example, road rage—sexual behavior, fire starting, stealing, and self-abusive behaviors.’ ”
    Wait, what? Oh, shit, I must have accidentally mixed in my DSM notes with the readings I’d printed out! I began frantically gesturing and shaking my head at Snacker while simultaneously trying not to draw attention to myself.
    Josh leaned in to me. “Chloe, what the hell is he talking about?”
    Oblivious to the meaning of the words he was mechanically sounding out, Snacker continued. “ ‘Intermittent Explosive Disorder. This disorder is characterized by frequent and often unpredictable episodes of extreme anger or physical outbursts.’ ”
    Of all the inappropriate things to read aloud at the memorial service of a woman who had been strangled! “Wrong page! Wrong page!” I yelled out. “The Keats poem! Read the Keats poem!”
    Snacker looked up at me. “Yeah, I thought this was sort of weird.” He shuffled through the papers until he found Keats. “ ‘Oh, soft embalmer of the still midnight! Shutting with careful fingers and benign Thank God! Except that I probably should have chosen something that didn’t include the word embalmer. Too late now.
    Snacker’s horrendous reading came to an end, and I did my best to salvage the mess I’d created by presenting Gavin with the memory book. I stood next to the grotesque flower heart and spoke to the seated employees. “Thank you, everybody, for all the extremely loving memories you shared with me.” While Gavin took the book from me, I quickly shot the room a snotty look, admonishing everyone for the across-the-board failure. “I hope that the words in this book offer you some comfort.”
    “Thank you so much for this, Chloe. This means everything to me.” Gavin leaned in to give me a polite hug, and I returned to my chair. “To end the service today, I would like to have a final toast to Leandra.” Blythe and Kevin rose from their seats, retrieved glasses from behind the bar, and began pouring drinks. “Her favorite drink was Oban, a wonderful, smooth, and satisfying single malt scotch.”
    A glass of whiskey? What kind of favorite drink was that for a young woman? And the last thing I needed today was hard liquor.
    Blythe carried a tray full of glasses and placed four on our table. “Enjoy. It’s a miracle that there’s enough Oban to go around. Wade is forever walking off with it.”
    In response to my questioning look, she nodded. “Oh, yeah. He kisses Gavin’s ass and then helps himself to the top shelf. Prick.” She continued serving the other employees. Josh and Snacker were leaning behind me talking and missed what Blythe had said.
    While we raised our glasses in a final farewell, I couldn’t help focusing on the news that Wade was stealing, too. And stealing expensive bottles of single malt scotch at that! Here was yet another person who could have been found out by Leandra and would consequently have been motivated to silence her. I looked around the room and watched Wade and Kevin lift their glasses of Oban and swallow their drinks in one gulp. I touched my glass to my mouth but didn’t let any of the whiskey cross my lips. I was pleased to notice that Isabelle did the same thing; she was underage. There was at least one law-abiding person here. Or was Isabelle refusing to drink a toast to Leandra and secretly celebrating the young woman’s demise?
    “I have to go, babe.” Josh grabbed my hand. “I’ll try to call you later.”
    Within minutes, the entire staff was bustling to get ready for dinner service. Gavin again thanked me for putting together such a lovely book. I brushed off his thanks. “It was no problem. Everyone was happy to contribute.” Happy to have this memorial service over, was more like it.

FIFTEEN

    BACK at my apartment, I put the finishing touches on my second paper, which was due the next day. I fed Ken the hermit crab some crab food that looked like mouse poop and then distracted myself from thoughts of the thievery at Simmer by researching names for Adrianna