“No—no. That isn’t what I wanted, but—”
“But what? What are you doing in that lab?”
He turned away. “I’ll call the coroner.”
He went to the phone by the TV and made the call. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get a shot at his own autopsy as part of his research. I didn’t like the idea of Fritz falling out of official channels into some classified research hole of Flemming’s devising, embalmed and pickled in a jar. Fritz had spent most of his life outside official channels. It left him in this lonely apartment, surrounded by newspapers and television, with a glass of schnapps at four P.M. for entertainment. How long would it have taken someone to find him if we hadn’t come?
We returned to the street. Flemming said he’d wait for the coroner’s van. There wasn’t anything left for me to do, and Luis convinced me to leave with him.
As the car pulled away, I started crying.
Sunday morning, I was at Luis’s apartment. I’d woken up before him, and lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think. Had Fritz really known his heart was about to give out?
I’d run into a wall. I didn’t know what else I could learn about Flemming’s research. Maybe there was nothing to learn, nothing but what Flemming had already said in the hearings. I was all worked up over nothing.
My cell phone rang. Luis shifted and mumbled, “Is that mine?”
“No.” I retrieved my jeans and pulled the phone out of the pocket.
Caller ID said MOM. Her weekly Sunday call, but hours early. I sat up and pulled the blanket around me. Couldn’t be naked, talking to Mom.
I answered the phone. “Hi.”
“Hi, Kitty. We’re having lunch at Cheryl’s, so I wanted to make sure we talked before then. Is this a good time?”
As good as any. As in, not really. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“How is Washington? Dad’s been taping the hearings—C-SPAN’s been showing the whole thing, I think. I still haven’t seen you in the audience, but he said he did, and he said that’s not why he’s taping them anyway. He thought you might want to have copies.”
I had to smile. “That’s cool. Thanks. I’m supposed to testify tomorrow, so tell him to have the VCR ready.”
“Oh—good luck! I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“I just have to answer questions. It’ll be fine.”
Luis had propped himself on his elbow and was smirking at me.
“Have you had time to do much sightseeing? I visited there when I was in college, we got to see a session of Congress, but it was the House, I think, not the Senate, and—”
Her conversation was so ordinary. It was kind of nice. I made encouraging noises, and avoided saying anything that might make me sound frustrated or depressed. I didn’t want her to worry.
Then again, she always knew when I was frustrated and depressed because I didn’t say anything.
She actually brought the call to a close herself, almost before I was ready to hear her go. “We should get going. I think Cheryl’s nervous about having us over, they’ve got the new house and I don’t think she’s got drapes up yet, and Jeffy’s teething.”
“Tell everyone I said hello.”
“I will. Take care, Kitty.”
“You, too, Mom. Bye.”
“That sounded very suburban. Very American,” Luis said, grinning unapologetically.
And there but for the . . . something . . . of lycanthropy went I. “Heard the whole thing, did you?”
“I assume Cheryl is your sister? Which means you have a nephew named Jeffy?”
“And a three-year-old niece named Nicky.” He was still smirking. As if I could help it that my sister had picked names straight out of a 1950s sitcom. “Are you making fun of my normal family?”