saw Nick turn away to disguise a smile.
“My dear Kathryn,” he intoned, “you must understand the situation. I’m told that Mr. McAllister has been deceased for almost a week now. How can I put this delicately? He will be in no condition to receive visitors—as I’m sure the good doctor can testify.”
“The body will be in a stage of decomposition known as putrefaction,” Nick said abruptly, “perhaps even black putrefaction, considering the ambient temperature lately. The gut will be bloated by intestinal bacteria—so will the eyes and tongue, if there’sanything left of them. The skin will be blistered and loose. There will be major larval infestations here, here, and here”—he pointed casually to Kathryn’s temple, eyes, and mouth—“and brother, it will stink to high heaven.”
Each additional description seemed to rocket off the walls and violate the solemn atmosphere like an obscenity shouted in a cathedral. Mr. Schroeder looked as though he might never recover.
“Nevertheless,” she continued, “I still want to see him.”
“Kathryn, please,” Mr. Schroeder implored. “This is not how Mr. McAllister would want you to remember him. Don’t do this to him. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Please. It will only be for a few minutes.”
“I’m very sorry,” he said, sighing. “I’d like to accommodate you, but you must understand my situation. First of all, the deceased has not arrived yet. And even when he does, without direct permission from the next of kin I cannot allow a viewing. Have you such permission?”
“I know Jimmy’s sister, but … well … it’s kind of complicated …”
“There isn’t time,” Nick cut in. “When the body arrives, you won’t bring it in the house—not in the shape it’s in. You’ll store it in the garage, and you’ll dust it with Formalin powder as fast as you can to control the stench. That will kill every insect on the body.”
Mr. Schroeder looked at him closely, as if for the first time.
“Look,” Nick said, “we’re not asking to do an autopsy here—we just want to collect a few bugs.”
A look of astonished realization swept across Mr. Schroeder’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly, “what you ask is out of the question. You’re not requesting a viewing at all, you’re intending to conduct some kind of examination. What you suggest is quite unethical and improper—and possibly illegal as well.”
“Please,” Kathryn pleaded now, “I have to see him. If only you knew how important this is to me …”
A prolonged and awkward silence followed—then Nick spoke up abruptly. “Mr. Schroeder, I understand your situation completely. As a fellow professional I can appreciate the awkwardposition that Mrs. Guilford has put you in. We’ll contact the immediate family in the next few days to see what options might be available to us. Thank you for your time.”
Kathryn watched open-mouthed as Nick wheeled around and walked quickly out the door. She turned, muttered something incoherent to Mr. Schroeder, and hurried after him. She caught up to him halfway to the car.
“What’s the matter with you?” she shouted after him. “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking back there?” Nick said nothing, but got into the car and started the engine. Kathryn hurried around and climbed in, slamming the door hard behind her.
“Easy on the door,” he said, pulling away from the curb in a puff of blue smoke. “It’s held together by Bondo.”
“I thought you said we don’t have a few days! What happens if he puts that powder on the body?”
“Then you’ve got no bugs. No bugs, no Bug Man.”
“No Bug Man, no twenty thousand dollars!” she reminded him. “I don’t understand why in the world you—”
“This should be far enough.” Nick pulled over to the curb again a single block farther down the road, just out of sight of Schroeder’s Funeral Home. “You coming?” he said as he climbed from the
“My dear Kathryn,” he intoned, “you must understand the situation. I’m told that Mr. McAllister has been deceased for almost a week now. How can I put this delicately? He will be in no condition to receive visitors—as I’m sure the good doctor can testify.”
“The body will be in a stage of decomposition known as putrefaction,” Nick said abruptly, “perhaps even black putrefaction, considering the ambient temperature lately. The gut will be bloated by intestinal bacteria—so will the eyes and tongue, if there’sanything left of them. The skin will be blistered and loose. There will be major larval infestations here, here, and here”—he pointed casually to Kathryn’s temple, eyes, and mouth—“and brother, it will stink to high heaven.”
Each additional description seemed to rocket off the walls and violate the solemn atmosphere like an obscenity shouted in a cathedral. Mr. Schroeder looked as though he might never recover.
“Nevertheless,” she continued, “I still want to see him.”
“Kathryn, please,” Mr. Schroeder implored. “This is not how Mr. McAllister would want you to remember him. Don’t do this to him. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Please. It will only be for a few minutes.”
“I’m very sorry,” he said, sighing. “I’d like to accommodate you, but you must understand my situation. First of all, the deceased has not arrived yet. And even when he does, without direct permission from the next of kin I cannot allow a viewing. Have you such permission?”
“I know Jimmy’s sister, but … well … it’s kind of complicated …”
“There isn’t time,” Nick cut in. “When the body arrives, you won’t bring it in the house—not in the shape it’s in. You’ll store it in the garage, and you’ll dust it with Formalin powder as fast as you can to control the stench. That will kill every insect on the body.”
Mr. Schroeder looked at him closely, as if for the first time.
“Look,” Nick said, “we’re not asking to do an autopsy here—we just want to collect a few bugs.”
A look of astonished realization swept across Mr. Schroeder’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly, “what you ask is out of the question. You’re not requesting a viewing at all, you’re intending to conduct some kind of examination. What you suggest is quite unethical and improper—and possibly illegal as well.”
“Please,” Kathryn pleaded now, “I have to see him. If only you knew how important this is to me …”
A prolonged and awkward silence followed—then Nick spoke up abruptly. “Mr. Schroeder, I understand your situation completely. As a fellow professional I can appreciate the awkwardposition that Mrs. Guilford has put you in. We’ll contact the immediate family in the next few days to see what options might be available to us. Thank you for your time.”
Kathryn watched open-mouthed as Nick wheeled around and walked quickly out the door. She turned, muttered something incoherent to Mr. Schroeder, and hurried after him. She caught up to him halfway to the car.
“What’s the matter with you?” she shouted after him. “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking back there?” Nick said nothing, but got into the car and started the engine. Kathryn hurried around and climbed in, slamming the door hard behind her.
“Easy on the door,” he said, pulling away from the curb in a puff of blue smoke. “It’s held together by Bondo.”
“I thought you said we don’t have a few days! What happens if he puts that powder on the body?”
“Then you’ve got no bugs. No bugs, no Bug Man.”
“No Bug Man, no twenty thousand dollars!” she reminded him. “I don’t understand why in the world you—”
“This should be far enough.” Nick pulled over to the curb again a single block farther down the road, just out of sight of Schroeder’s Funeral Home. “You coming?” he said as he climbed from the
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