I ’ve seen dead bodies before. I could never get used to that. But what about a coroner or a funeral director? Someone who dealt with dead bodies every day? They must have a cast-iron stomach and nerves of steel. Me? I ended up shaking and thinking I was going to be sick. I suppose I should have put my arm around Sarah and comforted her. Some pretend boyfriend I turned out to be.
So we waited while the police did their investigation. They interviewed each of us separately.
“You broke into the office?”
“Um, the door was open and my friend sort of pushed it.”
“You didn’t notice anything unusual when you entered?”
“Not the first time.”
“You mean you went back a second time?”
“Well, when we saw the feet.”
“The feet?”
“Under the desk.”
I don’t think any of us were really suspects, but they asked us a lot of questions. It wasn’t too bad. We checked with each other afterward and we’d all told the same story. It had happened so fast, we didn’t have time to make one up.
“How bad would things have to be?” James sipped his coffee. The three of us were sitting in the break room, sterile white tiled walls on four sides, and a stainless refrigerator, microwave, and coffee maker.
“Bad.” I couldn’t fathom the feeling. What the hell would cause me to take my own life?
“Ralph was-well, I haven’t been here that long, but he was like the rock. I mean, he loved this place and he loved his job. And I think he had an idea that Sandy might be moving on, so he was in line to take over.” Sarah’s color had come back to her face, and she was on her second cup of high-voltage coffee.
I couldn’t drink the mud brown liquid. My stomach was still churning, and I kept seeing that head covered in blood. “Guys, girls,” Em hated being called a guy, “this man must have had some serious problems.”
“Well, as the song says, suicide is painless.”
I nodded. “Mash. Donald Sutherland, Sally Kellerman, Elliot Gould. Nineteen-”
“Seventy.” James stirred his coffee with his finger. “Before we were born, amigo.”
Sarah looked back and forth at us, trying to figure out where the conversation had gone south. It always did.
A man with graying hair stuck his head in the door. From the shoulders up I could see a loosened tie, a stiff collared shirt, and tanned face with just the slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow. I took a quick guess. Sandler Conroy.
“Sarah. Can I see you for a moment?”
She gave me a quick look, almost like a girlfriend would give her boyfriend before going off with another man. Or maybe it was just my imagination. She stood up and walked out to greet him. We could hear her heels click down the hallway.
We were both quiet for a moment, the only two people in the room. I could hear a very small buzz and traced it to a clock that hung above the sink.
“Skip, we’ve stepped into it before, but-”
“But.”
We didn’t talk for several minutes. James sipped his coffee, and I pretty much stared at the table. I was trying to work out everything that had happened in the last week.
“There’s still a good side to this, my friend.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Look, you’re still making good money. I mean, this shouldn’t shut down the installation. Am I right?”
“You’re right, James.”
“So we’ve got that going for us.”
Us? It was always us. James had been my best friend since grade school and we shared about everything. Even Ginger Stevens in the seventh grade. Of course, I think she pretty much kissed every guy in