Always Kiss the Corpse by Sandy Frances Duncan

place. To feed the cats. I went Sunday after I identified him, after I spoke to the police. Want to come along?”
    Kyra said, “Sure,” before realizing how much she did.
    Ursula went to the washroom. When Noel came back Kyra explained about the cats. Noel said, “We have to go?”
    â€œI’d kinda like to see how Sandra lived.”
    â€œThis isn’t what we were hired for. We’ve done what Mrs. V. wanted.”
    â€œSure, but aren’t you curious too?”
    â€œNot particularly.”
    â€œOkay, you stay here and drink beer. I’ll pick you up on the way back.”
    He thought about that. “I guess I am a little curious about the house.” Drinking beer alone wasn’t why he’d flown down to Bellingham.

SIX
    Philip had called Andrei first thing in the morning. Andrei’s secretary told Philip that Mr. Vasiliadis was not available until the end of the afternoon. No, not even for Dr. Deriades. This surprised Philip. He’d been sure Andrei would make time no matter how busy he was. Then Philip guessed Andrei wanted to get a day’s 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 Sandro’s body.
    Philip arrived at the executive offices of Cascade Freightways at four minutes before five, armed with Herb Feverel’s analysis. Philip waited only two minutes. Andrei stuck his head out. Philip went in, Andrei closed the door. No, it wasn’t too early, he’d take a bourbon. Andrei poured the liquid into two crystal glasses and handed one to Philip. They sat on the deep chairs.
    â€œSo,” said Andrei. “Tell me.”
    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 couldn’t 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 he’d 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 he’d overdosed early in his drug life; equally unclear if this was an accident or if Sandro had intended to kill himself.
    â€œI see,” said Andrei. “Go on.”
    Philip took a deep breath. “I 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 Sandro’s body was in chronic sexual imbalance, just in what way not even Sandro could have told us, and he—”
    â€œWait a minute.” Andrei sipped his bourbon. “Sexual imbalance. I don’t want to guess what that means. Medically.”
    â€œMedically 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€œYou mean, Sandro was part woman?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œSo he was a faggot.” Andrei spoke with contempt.
    â€œWe have no evidence of that.”
    â€œThen I don’t get it.”
    â€œYou’ve seen versions of things like this.” Philip spoke slowly. “You know how some men, at least on the outside, are heavily masculine, muscles, hairy, tough, aggressive. And some guys aren’t, they’re gentle or sentimental, pussy-whipped or whatever. And some women are strong and tough, some are feminine and compliant—”
    Andrei glared at Philip. “Is that what they teach you in industrial medicine?”
    â€œMedical school. And that’s