place. To feed the cats. I went Sunday after I identified him, after I spoke to the police. Want to come along?â
Kyra said, âSure,â before realizing how much she did.
Ursula went to the washroom. When Noel came back Kyra explained about the cats. Noel said, âWe have to go?â
âIâd kinda like to see how Sandra lived.â
âThis isnât what we were hired for. Weâve done what Mrs. V. wanted.â
âSure, but arenât you curious too?â
âNot particularly.â
âOkay, you stay here and drink beer. Iâll pick you up on the way back.â
He thought about that. âI guess I am a little curious about the house.â Drinking beer alone wasnât why heâd flown down to Bellingham.
SIX
Philip had called Andrei first thing in the morning. Andreiâs secretary told Philip that Mr. Vasiliadis was not available until the end of the afternoon. No, not even for Dr. Deriades. This surprised Philip. Heâd been sure Andrei would make time no matter how busy he was. Then Philip guessed Andrei wanted to get a dayâs work done before hearing the report. Andrei, Philip figured, feared his worst suspicions would be confirmed. Bad news comes easier late in the day, you have a drink or three to numb the pain. And a sleeping pill for overnight.
Just as well to wait. Maybe Herb would report by this PM on his examination of Sandroâs body.
Philip arrived at the executive offices of Cascade Freightways at four minutes before five, armed with Herb Feverelâs analysis. Philip waited only two minutes. Andrei stuck his head out. Philip went in, Andrei closed the door. No, it wasnât too early, heâd take a bourbon. Andrei poured the liquid into two crystal glasses and handed one to Philip. They sat on the deep chairs.
âSo,â said Andrei. âTell me.â
Like Andrei, Philip Deriades preferred to keep blemishes incurred by members of the community within the community, or better, within a tiny part of the community. But he couldnât guarantee certain information could be contained. It took a man like Andrei to arrange for that restraint. For this Andrei needed all surrounding information. Therefore Philip set out most of what heâd learned: the body at the viewing was Sandro; Sandro died of a heroin overdose; still unclear if Sandro was a long-term and regular user or if heâd overdosed early in his drug life; equally unclear if this was an accident or if Sandro had intended to kill himself.
âI see,â said Andrei. âGo on.â
Philip took a deep breath. âI consulted with a colleague, an endocrinologist at Virginia Mason. He likes to say, Dead men tell no lies. He diagnosed with some certainty what was going on with Sandro. He judges Sandroâs body was in chronic sexual imbalance, just in what way not even Sandro could have told us, and heââ
âWait a minute.â Andrei sipped his bourbon. âSexual imbalance. I donât want to guess what that means. Medically.â
âMedically we can reconstruct a situation. But not psychologically. Medically it means there were some elements, genetic materials, hormones, that were more female than male in Sandro.â
âYou mean, Sandro was part woman?â
âSomething like that.â
âSo he was a faggot.â Andrei spoke with contempt.
âWe have no evidence of that.â
âThen I donât get it.â
âYouâve seen versions of things like this.â Philip spoke slowly. âYou know how some men, at least on the outside, are heavily masculine, muscles, hairy, tough, aggressive. And some guys arenât, theyâre gentle or sentimental, pussy-whipped or whatever. And some women are strong and tough, some are feminine and compliantââ
Andrei glared at Philip. âIs that what they teach you in industrial medicine?â
âMedical school. And thatâs
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