wandered about the room for a moment and I took the opportunity to toss my blazer onto a chair, wriggle into the jumpsuit and gloves and start unpacking my industrial strength supplies.
I gnoring Christopher’s gaze as much as possible, I tested the cleaner fluid on the carpet in the closet to make sure it wouldn’t ruin the fibers, then filled the machine with it. I examined the drapes and it looked as though one panel could be salvaged but the other was torn from the top. There was quite a bit of blood including a stain near the couch and a dark thin trail on the floor. The bathroom looked like the death scene it was. Evidently she had finally settled on the old fashioned method of slitting her wrists. The grout was going to be a challenge for the old electric toothbrush I kept charged and in the bag.
“We found her in th e bath,” Christopher said, startling me. The close quarters in the ancient elevator had made his proximity to me awkward, but now he was definitely invading my personal space and with no excuse this time; the room was spacious. I walked over to where I had flung my blazer and draped it more carefully over the back as a pretext to move away from him a bit before replying.
I was puzzled by the amount of blood in the bedroom. “I’m not an expert on suicide by any means,” I said, “but don’t people generally settle on a place before slitting their wrists? That seems kind of strange to slit your wrists then draw a bath.”
“I think we could agree that someone who slits their wrists is already crazy,” he said smoothly.
“No, not really, I have to say I respectfully disagree . I think there are plenty of people who just hit an unbearable patch, or take medications that tip the balance the wrong way.”
He nodded seriously, although I could tell he didn’t buy it or simply wasn’t interested. While I went about my business, he chatted and since he was ruining my work flow by asking questions I started becoming the interrogator. He obviously wanted me to know as much about himself as possible, so he expounded quite nicely on each topic while I largely ignored his replies.
F inally I said, “I’m afraid conversation will be impossible once I turn the cleaner on, you’ve been very kind.” He recognized his cue and asked me to have him paged again when I finished. I agreed as I adjusted the settings on the machine.
I rang Ben up and left a message that I was uptown at the Dunbarton if he was free later while I unpacked the remainder of my supplies.
W ithout the distraction of Christopher I went through my routine step by step. The cleaner was not as good as my own and I used a little too much force. As I attempted push it under the bed it made a heavy thud, and the clattering sound which followed made me wince. I stopped the machine and checked the bed to make sure I hadn’t chipped the wood and examined the rollers which appeared to be fine. I had the hang of it once I turned it back on and used a little less pressure.
T he comforter on the bed would be a challenge to clean, with deep stains that didn’t bear thinking about, but my specialty cleaners often exceed my expectations. Rather than wrestle the heavy drapes and the comforter down through the lobby, I picked up the phone to call the front desk. The line was dead. I reached under the bed to reattach the cord but didn’t hear the satisfying click as I pressed the clip into the outlet. The end was smashed. I hoped I hadn’t done that in my haste to push the carpet cleaner about. I felt around as far as I could, but there were no pieces. So that was the clatter. I was a little relieved it was something so inexpensive to replace as opposed to a priceless chip of furniture. Running over a telephone cord clip wasn’t the end of the world.
I was suddenly repulsed by my own petty concerns. A young girl’s world had ended in this very room and I was becoming so accustomed to death I had actually spent a moment worrying about
I gnoring Christopher’s gaze as much as possible, I tested the cleaner fluid on the carpet in the closet to make sure it wouldn’t ruin the fibers, then filled the machine with it. I examined the drapes and it looked as though one panel could be salvaged but the other was torn from the top. There was quite a bit of blood including a stain near the couch and a dark thin trail on the floor. The bathroom looked like the death scene it was. Evidently she had finally settled on the old fashioned method of slitting her wrists. The grout was going to be a challenge for the old electric toothbrush I kept charged and in the bag.
“We found her in th e bath,” Christopher said, startling me. The close quarters in the ancient elevator had made his proximity to me awkward, but now he was definitely invading my personal space and with no excuse this time; the room was spacious. I walked over to where I had flung my blazer and draped it more carefully over the back as a pretext to move away from him a bit before replying.
I was puzzled by the amount of blood in the bedroom. “I’m not an expert on suicide by any means,” I said, “but don’t people generally settle on a place before slitting their wrists? That seems kind of strange to slit your wrists then draw a bath.”
“I think we could agree that someone who slits their wrists is already crazy,” he said smoothly.
“No, not really, I have to say I respectfully disagree . I think there are plenty of people who just hit an unbearable patch, or take medications that tip the balance the wrong way.”
He nodded seriously, although I could tell he didn’t buy it or simply wasn’t interested. While I went about my business, he chatted and since he was ruining my work flow by asking questions I started becoming the interrogator. He obviously wanted me to know as much about himself as possible, so he expounded quite nicely on each topic while I largely ignored his replies.
F inally I said, “I’m afraid conversation will be impossible once I turn the cleaner on, you’ve been very kind.” He recognized his cue and asked me to have him paged again when I finished. I agreed as I adjusted the settings on the machine.
I rang Ben up and left a message that I was uptown at the Dunbarton if he was free later while I unpacked the remainder of my supplies.
W ithout the distraction of Christopher I went through my routine step by step. The cleaner was not as good as my own and I used a little too much force. As I attempted push it under the bed it made a heavy thud, and the clattering sound which followed made me wince. I stopped the machine and checked the bed to make sure I hadn’t chipped the wood and examined the rollers which appeared to be fine. I had the hang of it once I turned it back on and used a little less pressure.
T he comforter on the bed would be a challenge to clean, with deep stains that didn’t bear thinking about, but my specialty cleaners often exceed my expectations. Rather than wrestle the heavy drapes and the comforter down through the lobby, I picked up the phone to call the front desk. The line was dead. I reached under the bed to reattach the cord but didn’t hear the satisfying click as I pressed the clip into the outlet. The end was smashed. I hoped I hadn’t done that in my haste to push the carpet cleaner about. I felt around as far as I could, but there were no pieces. So that was the clatter. I was a little relieved it was something so inexpensive to replace as opposed to a priceless chip of furniture. Running over a telephone cord clip wasn’t the end of the world.
I was suddenly repulsed by my own petty concerns. A young girl’s world had ended in this very room and I was becoming so accustomed to death I had actually spent a moment worrying about
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