an ideal position for someone like T.S.—to be so surrounded by life, yet made invisible and, thus, all-powerful by the anonymous security of the limousine's tinted windows. T.S. suddenly felt like an integral part of this excitement, as if he stood at the center of a large wheel and these lovely people, this wonderful multitude of different faces—all colors and sizes and shapes and expressions included—all belonged to him, every last one of them, and were all a part of him, flowing outward from the center of his benign goodwill like revelers circling a beribboned Maypole.
"Why, Theodore," he heard Lilah say through a cacophony of honking horns, the shouts of religious fanatics and the chatter of at least six different languages. "What an interesting smile just crossed your face. I don't think I've ever actually seen you smile that way before. What in the world were you thinking of just now?"
Glad that Auntie Lil and Grady were occupied in a discussion about whether disco was coming back, T.S. shook his head happily. "I don't really know," he confessed. "I just had the strangest feeling. I really felt alive."
Lilah reached over and patted his hand. Her touch was warm and far too fleeting. "Retirement must agree with you. I've never seen you look so handsome."
Handsome? He preened very casually in the mirrored bar surface. Things were looking up, indeed.
Frustrated by the slow going, Auntie Lil grew increasingly more excited and was bouncing up and down impatiently in her seat by the time they reached the medical examiner's office.
"Have you got the film?" she asked T.S., eyeing his camera dubiously.
"Of course. I'm not an idiot." He checked the back of the camera just in case, though he'd double-checked it twice before leaving the house. He climbed quickly out of the car in response to Auntie Lil's impatient push from behind. "Are you sure you don't want to accompany us?" he asked Lilah politely through her open window, when she made no move to leave the limousine.
"Thank you, I believe I'll just stay here with Grady and come back in for the dinner portion of the evening. Ask for Rodriquez at the door. He knows what to do." Lilah gave a fluttering half-wave just as the tinted window rolled back up, obscuring her face.
Auntie Lil tugged on his arm, admonishing him to hurry. The entrance doors were locked and they rang a bell as instructed. Upon hearing a sharp buzz, they pushed through the front doors and found themselves in a dark and empty reception room, the employees having fled hours before. Auntie Lil looked around for an inner door or second buzzer and was just peeking under the front desk when a small, darkish man with thinning hair and suspicious eyes burst through a rear door. He gripped a clipboard against his chest like a shield, stared at Auntie Lil crouched beneath the receptionist's desk, then scrutinized T.S. with almost comical mistrust.
"What do you two want?" he asked, delving right to the heart of the matter.
"You must be Rodriquez," T.S. deflected politely, extending his hand for his heartiest handshake.
Rodriquez ignored the gesture and wrapped his lab coat a little more tightly around his protruding middle. "What if I am?" he demanded truculently.
Auntie Lil rose to her not very impressive height and looked him straight in the eye. "Lilah Cheswick said to ask for you," she explained evenly, a hint of steel underlying her words. "She said it had all been arranged," she added with mysterious inflection, managing to make it sound as if they were there to rob, not photograph, bodies.
Rodriquez looked at them with even greater distaste. "Oh, yeah. You two are the kooks who want to take a picture of a corpse or something." His expression changed to one of mild interest, as if he'd run up against all kinds of weirdos before and they represented a new, slightly intriguing species.
Good grief, T.S. realized. The creep thought they were on some sort of perverse pleasure trip. Time to nip that notion in the bud. "We're here to photograph a specific woman who died yesterday," T.S. explained with stiff dignity. "We are attempting to secure her true identification from someone in the vicinity of her neighborhood."
"Sure." Rodriquez nodded slowly, unconvinced. But he checked his clipboard and motioned them to follow. "Suit yourself," he said. "It takes all kinds."
Ignoring his jibe, they walked down a long hallway, turned the corner and pushed past a set of swinging doors that led them into