Page 55 of Melancholia

“His dad changed first. Alcohol.” The words make me look up, and the apologetic dismissal I’d been piecing together dies on my lips. “It wasn’t a mystery like Amir is. We all saw it happening when Amir was a teenager. Don’t know why.” She shrugs. “Not like anything happened or someone died. He just started drinking.”

“He was a mean drunk.” The words are out of my mouth before I consider I might be off base, but judging by Hestia’s expression, I’m not far from it. “Sorry. It’s none of my business, but I get it.” Guilt churns in my chest, though I remind myself I have nothing to feel bad about. I’m not judging him. But I do understand.

While alcohol was never the root of all evil in my family, that doesn’t make it any better.

When Hestia’s face falls into sympathy, my insides jolt as I realize I’ve accidentally exposed a little more than I’d like. “A-anyway.” The stutter is embarrassing as I stumble over my response in trying to create distance. “I’m just curious about him. I’m just⁠—”

“You have a crush on him.” Hestia grins the moment I look over at her, and her eyes dance. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t have to hide your relationship from me because he’s my cousin.” She takes another sip of her espresso, which reminds me I have coffee too.

“But if you hurt his feelings, I’ll have to dramatically kill you. Death by poisoned coffee or something.” The words have me choking on my iced latte, and I cough until my eyes water and Hestia is staring at me like she thinks she might need to call an ambulance. “Okay, but I didn’t poison that coffee,” she reminds me finally. “Let’s not choke to death.” She takes it from my hand before I can drop it, and I finally double over to hack up my poor lungs.

“Yeah, you’re right.” But I still have to clear my throat a few times before I feel comfortable taking another drink. “I promise, Hestia, it is not my intention to hurt Amir’s feelings. Or anything else that would require you to poison me.”

“Great. Then we can still be friends.” The door opens and she looks up to see two customers walking in, talking to each other without paying us any attention. “I’ll see you later? You work tonight, right?”

“Yeah. I’m just going out to run some errands—” I glance down at my phone when it buzzes, and sigh at the number. Yet another call from somewhere out west. But with the likelihood of it being spam, I don’t intend on answering. “But I’ll be back later if you want help with anything before work.”

“Well, if you’re offering”—she glances at the cold case—“you could help me figure out something new for that. I’m over what’s in the case now.”

Suddenly, I regret opening my mouth. But I won’t go back on my offer. I smile at her and nod. “I don’t mind. Like I said, let me just run these errands, and I’m yours until I have to get ready for work.”

“All good.” She waves me a quick goodbye, but as I turn, she adds, “Hey, Nell? You look good today. You should dress like that more often. I bet Amir would appreciate it.”

My phone doesn’t go off while I run my errands or when helping Hestia. Instead, it waits for the moment Cecil strides into the embalming room with a worried look on his face that demands my attention. “Do you have a minute?” he asks, glancing between me, the phone buzzing on the desk to his right, and the body I’m currently working on.

“Umm…” I glance down to where I’m holding a pair of tweezers and the wire we use to stitch a person’s jaw together for the funeral. “That depends. Does it require hands?” My phone buzzes again, then goes silent. I don’t have time for a call right now, nor the ability to take it, so it’ll just have to wait.

“It doesn’t require hands. I don’t mind talking while you work, so long as that’s all right with you.” Cecil moves closer, gazing down at the body on the table that I’ve barely started working on. He doesn’t hover, exactly. And at no point does it seem like he’s judging my work. Cecil just watches, rocking back on his heels, like he’s the student and I’m a professor giving a demonstration.

Though when I think about it like that, it’s unnerving. “You said you needed to talk to me?” I prod finally, cutting through the wire with my pliers before setting my supplies back on the tray beside me. “Everything okay, Cecil?”

“Hmm?” he blinks and looks up at me like he’s been startled out of his thoughts. “Oh right. Yes, sorry.” As I watch, he runs a hand through his mostly grey hair. “Adele called. She told me that they’re at a point in the investigation that she’d like to talk to you.”

My hands go still on the box of eye caps and I stare at him. “Talk to me?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal,” Cecil assures me.

From the desk, my phone buzzes again, this time just a couple of short pulses instead of the repeated long ones that signal a call. But I can’t deal with whoever is texting me right now.

“About Andrew.” It’s not a question when I say it, though I meant it to be. “About what I found that night.”

“She just needs to take your statement. See if there’s anything you didn’t think was important. Between you and me, and please don’t repeat this to anyone, Nell, but they’re really struggling to find a lead. Any lead. Sure, there’s signs of it being a murder. No one doubts that. But…” he trails off and shakes his head back and forth slowly.

“We really don’t need this in town right now. Or ever, honestly. Can you imagine if it becomes a pattern? If there are more victims and this is just the first she knows about?” He lets out a sigh like this is just the worst inconvenience to ruin his week. “I don’t know, Nell. I was hoping it would be open and closed, you know? Especially since you’re involved.”

My heart plummets at his casual phrasing, then jumps back up to try and choke me. “Well I’m not really involved,” I’m quick to correct before I can help myself. “It was just a coincidence. And I barely had the body here for an hour or two.”

Don’t get defensive, I chide silently. Cecil might be too naive to be anything other than painfully oblivious to anyone’s wrongs, but I still don’t want to test it. Especially if Adele is going to be the one interviewing me.

I could tell them, I realize with a jolt. I could absolutely tell Adele I know who the killer is. If she’d believe me is another matter.

When I look up again, Andrew is standing behind Cecil, his jaw slack and his eyes unfocused. I have to fight not to give a small gasp, and my fingers clench and unclench on the eye cap box.

“When?” I whisper, then I clear my throat to ask again, “When is she coming?” I look away from him, trying to pretend he isn’t there as Cecil goes on.

“In a couple days. She’s got another case to wrap up and she said they’re slammed thanks to losing Brenner last month.” Vaguely, I recall the senior deputy leaving the precinct. Though I only remember because Cecil dragged me to his retirement party and introduced me to everyone over the course of one of the most awkward nights of my life.

“Okay. Just let me know and I’ll, umm, be ready for it.” There’s probably no being ready for it, but I have no idea what else to say.