the word. “...real. Alive, I mean.”
“My pay mostly goes to
upkeep these days.”
“Why do you…?” Miss Lopez
blushed, ashamed of her curiosity. “Please forgive me. I shouldn’t pry.”
I finished her thought.
“Why play lifer? Tell the truth, would you have come to my door otherwise?”
“Perhaps not,” she
admitted. “It’s not that I’m deathist , you
understand. My maid is moot. But she’s not…what’s the word? She’s not smart?”
“I prefer the term
‘sentient reanimate.’”
“Yes. Cora beginning
to...” She looked around, hesitant to utter such unpleasantries .
“...spoil. There was a burglary. She was struck with a crowbar. Here.” Miss
Lopez drew a line across her forehead with her finger. “It’s unpleasant, of
course. She makes almost as much mess as she cleans. We took her to Greytown once. I thought she’d prefer it there, among her
own, but she wandered back the next day. Not that I mind. Cora’s family.”
Family . I swallowed my
irritation at her necrophobia . Family, just not capital F family. Family, but not family
enough to set Cora up in a resurrection community.
“Start again,” I said,
taking out a pad and pencil. “Begin with why.”
She composed herself.
“It’s my sister. Isabel’s always been unpredictable. Went to all the
best schools, because none could handle her for more than a month. Can’t sit
still, won’t take anything seriously. A hellraiser ,
as my father says. She’s only sixteen, and already she has been involved with
men. And drugs. My family has spent a great deal to keep her out of the
papers.”
“And she’s taken off for
parts unknown.” Kid nobody understands runs away, takes up with a bad scene.
Not the oldest in the book, but a classic for a reason. “Have you called the
police? They’re helpful with missing persons, especially well-off missing
persons.”
“We’d prefer this be
handled quietly. My father feels Isabel has embarrassed us enough.”
“Your dime. Luckily,
you’ve caught me with a gap in my schedule. I get thirty per plus expenses,
which you’ll received itemized once I’ve found her or the trail runs cold.”
It was more than I usually
charged, but she could afford it. Plus, my doc wasn’t the cheapest in town, and
I was only going to get worse. Especially if I killed him for the peeper
switcheroo.
“There’s more.” Her eyes
began to mist. “Isabel was never interested in religion. We couldn’t even get
her through Sunday School. But when Cora returned last year, Isabel started going
to church.”
“Not surprising. I hear
attendance in the pews has quadrupled since this all started.”
“Suicides, too,” she said.
I nodded, fiddling at my shirt cuffs.
“It hit Isabel particularly hard. Cora is the
closest thing to a mother Isabel knows. She was the one who discovered the
body. Cora returned in Isabel’s arms.”
“Unsettling.”
“After that, Isabel
started taking things more seriously. After the inconstancy of death became
clear.”
Inconstancy. I liked that.
Nicer than random chance or fickle finger of fate. Or worse, God’s Will Be
Done.
“So Isabel found God. Not
usual for a runaway.”
“It’s my fault. We are
good Christians, Mr. Pasco. But Isabel never does anything halfway. She prays
loudly all hours of the day, she preaches chapter and verse to anyone and
everyone. When she’s not at church, she has her head buried in the family
Bible. I’m ashamed to say this, but her belief has become frightening.”
“There’s religious, and
there’s religious .”
“You understand, then.”
“Too well.” I glanced at the
corner of my desk. She followed my gaze and frowned, curious at the picture
frame lying there, face-down.
“And then Isabel left,” I
said, louder than I meant to.
“Yes, Monday. We had been
arguing again. This obsession, especially with death, it’s unhealthy for her.
Then Isabel didn’t show up for breakfast. Cora was agitated, but I
“My pay mostly goes to
upkeep these days.”
“Why do you…?” Miss Lopez
blushed, ashamed of her curiosity. “Please forgive me. I shouldn’t pry.”
I finished her thought.
“Why play lifer? Tell the truth, would you have come to my door otherwise?”
“Perhaps not,” she
admitted. “It’s not that I’m deathist , you
understand. My maid is moot. But she’s not…what’s the word? She’s not smart?”
“I prefer the term
‘sentient reanimate.’”
“Yes. Cora beginning
to...” She looked around, hesitant to utter such unpleasantries .
“...spoil. There was a burglary. She was struck with a crowbar. Here.” Miss
Lopez drew a line across her forehead with her finger. “It’s unpleasant, of
course. She makes almost as much mess as she cleans. We took her to Greytown once. I thought she’d prefer it there, among her
own, but she wandered back the next day. Not that I mind. Cora’s family.”
Family . I swallowed my
irritation at her necrophobia . Family, just not capital F family. Family, but not family
enough to set Cora up in a resurrection community.
“Start again,” I said,
taking out a pad and pencil. “Begin with why.”
She composed herself.
“It’s my sister. Isabel’s always been unpredictable. Went to all the
best schools, because none could handle her for more than a month. Can’t sit
still, won’t take anything seriously. A hellraiser ,
as my father says. She’s only sixteen, and already she has been involved with
men. And drugs. My family has spent a great deal to keep her out of the
papers.”
“And she’s taken off for
parts unknown.” Kid nobody understands runs away, takes up with a bad scene.
Not the oldest in the book, but a classic for a reason. “Have you called the
police? They’re helpful with missing persons, especially well-off missing
persons.”
“We’d prefer this be
handled quietly. My father feels Isabel has embarrassed us enough.”
“Your dime. Luckily,
you’ve caught me with a gap in my schedule. I get thirty per plus expenses,
which you’ll received itemized once I’ve found her or the trail runs cold.”
It was more than I usually
charged, but she could afford it. Plus, my doc wasn’t the cheapest in town, and
I was only going to get worse. Especially if I killed him for the peeper
switcheroo.
“There’s more.” Her eyes
began to mist. “Isabel was never interested in religion. We couldn’t even get
her through Sunday School. But when Cora returned last year, Isabel started going
to church.”
“Not surprising. I hear
attendance in the pews has quadrupled since this all started.”
“Suicides, too,” she said.
I nodded, fiddling at my shirt cuffs.
“It hit Isabel particularly hard. Cora is the
closest thing to a mother Isabel knows. She was the one who discovered the
body. Cora returned in Isabel’s arms.”
“Unsettling.”
“After that, Isabel
started taking things more seriously. After the inconstancy of death became
clear.”
Inconstancy. I liked that.
Nicer than random chance or fickle finger of fate. Or worse, God’s Will Be
Done.
“So Isabel found God. Not
usual for a runaway.”
“It’s my fault. We are
good Christians, Mr. Pasco. But Isabel never does anything halfway. She prays
loudly all hours of the day, she preaches chapter and verse to anyone and
everyone. When she’s not at church, she has her head buried in the family
Bible. I’m ashamed to say this, but her belief has become frightening.”
“There’s religious, and
there’s religious .”
“You understand, then.”
“Too well.” I glanced at the
corner of my desk. She followed my gaze and frowned, curious at the picture
frame lying there, face-down.
“And then Isabel left,” I
said, louder than I meant to.
“Yes, Monday. We had been
arguing again. This obsession, especially with death, it’s unhealthy for her.
Then Isabel didn’t show up for breakfast. Cora was agitated, but I
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