“More questioning by the police,” I hedged. “I’m the one who found him, you know.”

“Do you think he felt any pain?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, it’s kind of a relief, in a way, that he’s gone. But I’d hate to think he suffered.”

“A relief?”

She nodded, turning away.

“His health was failing fast. His death wasn’t much of a surprise.”

“What was wrong with him?” I asked, coming around the desk.

“What wasn’t wrong with him?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Diabetes, kidney failure, heart disease, you name it. Daddy was a mess.”

I thought of him, dead, his overweight frame in a heap on the floor.

“Kidney failure,” I said. “Was he on dialysis?”

“Three times a week,” she answered. “He was trying to line up a kidney transplant, but the doctors were about to pull the plug on that idea.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, as if suddenly my questions were just a bit too pushy for her.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” she said. “Can I walk you out?”

Though it was posed as a question, I could see I had no real choice in the matter. I nodded, letting her lead me through Gwen’s office and into the Smythe Incorporated side of the building. As we walked through, I realized that it had the same hushed and concerned atmosphere as Feed the Need. We passed a small group of whispering employees who dispersed the moment they saw Judith.

“The natives are restless,” Judith said disdainfully under her breath as we walked past.

“I’m sure they’re upset about your father’s death.”

“The show must go on,” she replied curtly. “They’ve all got more than enough work to keep them busy.”

“But the shock of it all,” I said. “You’ve got to expect them to be thrown a bit.”

“What shock?” Judith snapped. “I’m his daughter, and you don’t see me whimpering about it. Daddy’s been living on borrowed time for years. My only surprise is that he lived as long as he did.”

I was so stunned by her callous attitude that I know it must’ve shown on my face. After a moment, she stopped and looked at me, swallowing hard.

“You probably think I’m a heartless monster,” she said quietly. “I’m not. I just won’t let this get to me. He was a good man, and he had a good life. But now he’s dead. That’s it. Finito. Over and out.”

“But you must be in pain from this. The loss of such a good man—”

“Oh, I am. I loved my father, Ms. Webber. Make no mistake about that. I’ll miss him. But I can’t change what happened. My guess is that either his heart finally gave out or his blood sugar just went crazy. Either way, we can’t bring him back. So we move on.”

“At least you can take comfort in the fact that he was a Christian,” I said, but I was surprised when she waved my comment away with the flip of her wrist.