V Is for Vengeance

to get him in a lather about death and dying. In the wake of Nell’s fall and his own elevated glucose, he was already feeling vulnerable. In his mind, it was a hop, skip, and a jump from the idea of death to its imminent arrival.
    William was a funeral junkie, presenting himself at visitations, services, and graveside ceremonies once or twice a week. His interest was a natural extension of his obsession with his health. It didn’t matter to him whether he knew the deceased. He’d put on his three-piece suit, tuck a fresh hankie in his pocket, and set forth. Usually he walked. Several Santa Teresa mortuaries are located downtown, within a ten-block radius, which allowed him his constitutional at the same time he was seeing someone off.
    I’d told him about the shoplifter when I was in on Saturday night. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think it would be wise to introduce the fact of her toppling over the rail. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. The place was quiet, with only a scattering of patrons. Above the bar, the color television set was on, though the sound had been muted. The channel was fixed on some off-brand game show, to which no one was paying the slightest attention. There was none of the usual background music coming through the speakers and the energy level seemed flat.
    Henry’s table was empty. One of the day drinkers sat alone in a booth, sipping a whiskey neat. Rosie was perched on a stool at the far end of the bar folding white cloth napkins. A young couple appeared in the doorway, checked the menu posted on the wall, and quickly withdrew. William was behind the bar, leaning forward on his elbows, a ballpoint pen in hand. I thought he might be working on a crossword puzzle until I saw Audrey’s photo in the middle of the page. He’d circled three names, hers among them, and underscored the last few lines of the relevant obituaries.
    I perched on a stool and peered over the bar. “What are you doing?”
    “Working on my short list.”
    I meant to keep my mouth shut but I couldn’t help myself. “Remember the shoplifter I told you about?” I pointed to Audrey’s photograph. “That’s her.”
    “Her?”
    “Uh-hun. She threw herself off the Cold Spring Bridge.”
    “Oh, my. I read about that, but had no idea she was the one. Did the paper mention her by name?”
    “ID was withheld pending notification of the next of kin,” I said. “I didn’t see the article at all until someone told me where to look.”
    He tapped his pen on the paper. “That settles it. There’s a scheduling conflict so I can’t attend all three of these anyway. Audrey Vance it is. You’ll be going, of course.”
    “Absolutely not. I didn’t know the woman.”
    “Nor did I, but that’s hardly the point.”
    “What is the point?”
    “Seeing she gets a proper send-off. It’s the least we can do.”
    “You’re a total stranger. Don’t you think it’s bad form?”
    “But they don’t know that. I’ll make it clear we weren’t terribly close and therefore I can be more objective about her unfortunate choice. With a suicide, family members are often at a loss. It will help if they can talk about the situation with someone and who better than me? Surely there are details they wouldn’t share with friends. You know how it is. A veil of privacy descends. I’m both dispassionate and sympathetic. They’ll appreciate the opportunity to sort through their feelings, especially when they learn I’m an old hand at this.”
    The way William described it, I was inclined to agree.
    “What if they ask how you knew her?”
    His tone was incredulous. “At a funeral? How rude . The right to pay one’s respects isn’t reserved solely for the next of kin. If someone’s gauche enough to inquire, I’ll tell them we were distant acquaintances.”
    “So distant you never met.”
    “This is a small town. How can anyone be sure our paths didn’t cross half a dozen times?”
    I said, “Well, don’t go on my account. I didn’t even know her name until this morning.”
    “What’s the difference?” he asked. “You should join me. We could make an afternoon of it.”
    “Thanks, but no thanks. Too ghoulish for my taste.”
    “What if her criminal confederate is there? I thought you were interested in tracking her down.”
    “Not now,” I said. “I’m convinced she was involved, but I don’t have a shred of proof, so what’s it to me?”
    “Don’t be callous. Audrey’s accomplice bears