“Because of the way she acted around him. Looks. Following him around. She reported directly to him. One thing you could count on, after a difficult session with Miss Bitch, you'd soon be seeing Dr. Botch for candles and needle twisting. So she got murdered, huh?”

“Very nastily.”

“Too bad.” She pouted, then smiled. “See, I can be a hypocrite, too. It's called acting, I work with people who do it for a living—we all do, actually, don't we?”

“What about Rodney Shipler? Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Nope.”

“Delmar Parker—the boy I told you about over the phone.”

“Yeah, the truck. That's how I knew you were for real. He was before my time.”

“May seventy-three. You heard about it?”

“I heard about it from Botch. Boy, did I.”

“During a bad love session?”

Nod. “The wages of sin. I'd committed some major felony—I think it was not wearing underwear, or something. Or maybe he caught me with a boy—I don't remember. He said I was a vermeen aneemal and stupid, then gave me this whole spiel about a vermeen aneemal boy who'd received the ultimate punishment for his stupidity. “Death, young lady. Death.' ”

“What did he say happened?”

“The kid stole a truck, ran it off the road, and got killed. Proof positive of what happened to vermeen aneemal moron children. Botch had a good time with it—making fun of the kid, laughing a lot, as if it were just a big joke. “Do you comprehend, you bad, styupid girl? A boy so styupid, he steals a truck even though he doesn't know how to drive? Ha ha ha. A boy so styupid he virtually choreographs his own death? Ha ha ha.' ”

“He used that word? “Choreograph'?”

“Yes,” she said, looking surprised. “I believe he actually did.”

“What else did he say about the accident?”

“Disgusting details—that was part of bad love. Grossing you out. He had a ball with this one. How they didn't find the boy right away and when they did there were maggots in his mouth and crawling in and out of his eyes—“He is being eaten by maggots, my dear Meredith. Feasted upon. Consumed. And the animals have feasted upon him, too. Chewed away most of his face—it is a real mess—just like your character, styupid Meredith. You are not listening, you are not concentrating, you bad, styupid girl. We are trying to mold you into something decent but you refuse to cooperate. Think, Meredith. Think of that styupid boy. The bad love he received from the maggots. That is what happens when vermeen aneemals don't change their ways.' ”

She gave a hard, dry laugh and dabbed her nose again.