“That and a few other things,” Laurie said.

“Anyway,” Jack stammered. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Apologize for what?” Laurie asked. Apology wasn’t one of Jack’s strong suits either.

“For not being more positive about Paul,” Jack said. “He seems like a nice enough guy, and I’m impressed by you two going to Paris for the weekend. I could never do that in a million years.”

“Is that all you want to say?”

“I guess,” Jack said.

“Then your apology is accepted,” Laurie said matter-of-factly. She tossed back the quarter cup of coffee she’d poured for herself, flashed Jack a quick, fake smile, then headed for the meeting with the Cassidys. She knew Jack was transfixed and probably baffled by her behavior, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted an apology, especially not an insincere one. What she wanted to hear from him was how he felt about her possible plans to marry. But she now knew it wasn’t going to happen, and it frustrated her.

Laurie first checked one of the small side rooms used for relatives during the emotional identification process. In the past, people had to go down to the morgue and view the body, but that was an unnecessarily cruel procedure for individuals still coping with the shock of loss of a loved one. Now Polaroid pictures were used, and it was a lot easier on everyone.

Once Laurie was certain the room was reasonably clean, she went to get the Cassidys. They filed in silently and sat in two of the straight-back chairs. Laurie leaned against the scarred wooden desk. The only other things in the room were a box of tissues, a wastebasket, and several chipped ashtrays.

“Could I get either of you some coffee?” Laurie questioned as a way of introduction.

“I don’t reckon so,” Chester said. He’d taken off his coat. His plaid flannel shirt was buttoned to the neck. “We don’t want to take too much of your time.”

“It’s quite all right,” Laurie said. “We’re really here to serve the public, quite literally. And let me say that I’m very sorry about your son. I’m sure it was a big shock for you.”

“In some ways yes and in some ways no,” Chester said. “He’d been a kinda wayward kid. Nothing like his older sister or older brother. To tell you the truth, we were embarrassed by the way he dressed and looked, especially with that Nazi sign he tattooed on his forehead. My uncle died fighting those Nazis. Brad and I had a set-to about that tattoo, the good it did.”