weren’t around and I was lucky number three. The cousin and I had to go identify the body.” Louise stopped talking for a moment. When she started again, her voice was lower and she spoke each word deliberately.
“The cousin said he hadn’t seen him in twenty years and had no idea what he looked like, so he would be no good at identifying the body. They made me go in. Later, after signing some papers, I left with the cousin, who asked me how he looked. I asked him what did he care since he was too busy to see him when he was alive, and this creep says, ‘I saw him last Wednesday. We had dinner once a week.’The weasel just couldn’t make himself go in there.”
“Were the police satisfied that Heck’s death was an accident?” asked Jane.
“Sure. He was paranoid, his place was a death trap. He had almost stopped eating entirely because he thought his food was being poisoned. The cousin told me he changed his carry-out place every day so ‘they’ couldn’t find a pattern.”
“Anybody figure out why he was on the roof? I mean, if he was scared to come out of the house and all?” asked Jane, digging out a power bar from one of her vest pockets and breaking it in half. She gave half to Louise, wishing she had something more substantial to offer.
“A detective said they figured he thought someone was in the house trying to get him. He had climbed on stacks of newspapers to get out the attic window. They said there was no sign of foul play, but…” Louise studied the wrapper and read the carb count out loud. Then she shrugged and bit into it anyway. “If you ask me, the whole house reeked of foul play. Jeb is the main executor of the estate. Heck left everything to us. Every bit of garbage in that place belongs to the B Room.”
“Did you find anything of value there? Wa s there any reason to believe someone had broken in looking for something and frightened him out on the roof?”
“ We haven’t gone through the house yet. Most of us haven’t been past the entryway. We’re supposed to do it next week, before we sell it.…I don’t know if I can.…Look, all I know about mental illness is what I’ve learned from television and researched for scripts. I’m no expert. Heck was ill, no doubt about it, but he was also believable. Maybe I just want to believe this because he was part of the B Room, but I think something real was eating away at him.”
Jane asked Louise if the rest of the group agreed with her.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Jane shook her head.
“At first no one agreed with me, but then Bix got a letter that said she’d be next. She might be able to help herself and save the rest of us, but she’d have to wait for instructions. Said if she called the police, she wouldn’t have a chance.
“She showed us the letter at Jeb’s. It was the same day you were on TV, I think. Jeb had recorded it. Played it for us. Bix said she thought your story would make a good movie.”
“And thought that if I was here, I might be able to figure out who sent the letter?” asked Jane. She hoped she didn’t sound as incredulous as she felt. These people had lived in a fantasy world so long it had addled their brains.
Louise nodded. “And who made Heck jump off the roof.”
“
If
someone made him jump,” said Jane, and Louise nodded. But Jane was only being careful. She had already decided that there was something fishy about Heck’s death. It was a tragic illustration of one of her core beliefs. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean there isn’t somebody out to get you. And then there was Bix’s note from yesterday that Jane had in her pocket. Someone had threatened that they all would go to hell. Or heck.
Jane was a few minutes late for her rendezvous with Tim. Louise had gone off in search of more costume jewelry and with a promise to find Jane later. Jane tried to fill him in on her conversation as fast as she could, but knew he was only half listening. He grabbed her
“The cousin said he hadn’t seen him in twenty years and had no idea what he looked like, so he would be no good at identifying the body. They made me go in. Later, after signing some papers, I left with the cousin, who asked me how he looked. I asked him what did he care since he was too busy to see him when he was alive, and this creep says, ‘I saw him last Wednesday. We had dinner once a week.’The weasel just couldn’t make himself go in there.”
“Were the police satisfied that Heck’s death was an accident?” asked Jane.
“Sure. He was paranoid, his place was a death trap. He had almost stopped eating entirely because he thought his food was being poisoned. The cousin told me he changed his carry-out place every day so ‘they’ couldn’t find a pattern.”
“Anybody figure out why he was on the roof? I mean, if he was scared to come out of the house and all?” asked Jane, digging out a power bar from one of her vest pockets and breaking it in half. She gave half to Louise, wishing she had something more substantial to offer.
“A detective said they figured he thought someone was in the house trying to get him. He had climbed on stacks of newspapers to get out the attic window. They said there was no sign of foul play, but…” Louise studied the wrapper and read the carb count out loud. Then she shrugged and bit into it anyway. “If you ask me, the whole house reeked of foul play. Jeb is the main executor of the estate. Heck left everything to us. Every bit of garbage in that place belongs to the B Room.”
“Did you find anything of value there? Wa s there any reason to believe someone had broken in looking for something and frightened him out on the roof?”
“ We haven’t gone through the house yet. Most of us haven’t been past the entryway. We’re supposed to do it next week, before we sell it.…I don’t know if I can.…Look, all I know about mental illness is what I’ve learned from television and researched for scripts. I’m no expert. Heck was ill, no doubt about it, but he was also believable. Maybe I just want to believe this because he was part of the B Room, but I think something real was eating away at him.”
Jane asked Louise if the rest of the group agreed with her.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Jane shook her head.
“At first no one agreed with me, but then Bix got a letter that said she’d be next. She might be able to help herself and save the rest of us, but she’d have to wait for instructions. Said if she called the police, she wouldn’t have a chance.
“She showed us the letter at Jeb’s. It was the same day you were on TV, I think. Jeb had recorded it. Played it for us. Bix said she thought your story would make a good movie.”
“And thought that if I was here, I might be able to figure out who sent the letter?” asked Jane. She hoped she didn’t sound as incredulous as she felt. These people had lived in a fantasy world so long it had addled their brains.
Louise nodded. “And who made Heck jump off the roof.”
“
If
someone made him jump,” said Jane, and Louise nodded. But Jane was only being careful. She had already decided that there was something fishy about Heck’s death. It was a tragic illustration of one of her core beliefs. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean there isn’t somebody out to get you. And then there was Bix’s note from yesterday that Jane had in her pocket. Someone had threatened that they all would go to hell. Or heck.
Jane was a few minutes late for her rendezvous with Tim. Louise had gone off in search of more costume jewelry and with a promise to find Jane later. Jane tried to fill him in on her conversation as fast as she could, but knew he was only half listening. He grabbed her
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