"When?" she said in disbelief.

"Monday night when they carted you away. Quaaludes, Placidyls, Tuinals, the works." Actually, I didn't really believe the pills were hers, but I was curious to hear what she had to say.

She stared at me for a moment more, then eased out a mouthful of smoke, which she neatly channeled up her nose. "I don't do any of those," she said.

"What'd you take Monday night?"

"Valium. Prescription."

"Dr. Kleinert gave you a prescription for Valium?" I asked.

She got up with annoyance and started pacing the room. "I don't need your bullshit, Kinsey. My stepbrother was buried today in case your memory's short. I got other things on my mind."

"Were you involved with Bobby?"

"No, I wasn't 'involved' with Bobby. What do you mean, like some kind of sexual thing? Like was I having an affair?"

"Yeah, like that."

"God, you are so imaginative. For your information, I didn't even think about him that way."

"Maybe he thought about you that way."

She stopped pacing. "Says who?"

"Just a theory of mine. You know he loved you. Why wouldn't he have sexual feelings as well?"

"Oh come on. Did Bobby say that?"

"No, but I saw his reaction the night you were hospitalized. I didn't think it was strictly brotherly love I was looking at. In fact, I asked Glen about it at the time, but she said she didn't think there was anything going on."

"Well, there wasn't."

"Too bad. Maybe you could have saved each other."

She rolled her eyes, giving me a look – God, adults are such geeks! – but she was restless and distracted. She located an ashtray on the chest of drawers and stubbed out her cigarette. She lifted the lid to a music box and let a few notes of "Laras Theme" escape before she snapped it shut again. When she looked at me again, she had tears in her eyes and she seemed embarrassed by that.

She pushed away from the chest of drawers. "I gotta pack my stuff"

She went into the closet and hauled out a canvas duffel. She opened her top dresser drawer and snatched up a stack of underpants, which she shoved into the duffel. She bumped the drawer shut and opened the next one, grabbing T-shirts, jeans, socks.

I got up and moved to the door, turning back with my hand on the knob. "Nothing lasts, you know. Not even misery. "

"Yeah, sure. Especially not mine. What do you think I do drugs for, my health?"

"You're tough, right?"

"Shit, why don't you go work in a rescue mission? You got the line down pat."

"One day some happiness is going to come into your life in spite of you. You ought to keep yourself alive so you can enjoy it."

"Sorry. No sale. I'm not interested."

I shrugged. "So die. It won't be that big a deal. It sure won't be the loss that Bobby's death was. So far, you haven't given the world a thing."