Prayers for the Dead

“Happens all the time, my dear,” Decameron said. “Who do you think ran the tests for Prozac? Eli Lilly, of course. The FDA doesn’t have the skill, manpower or knowledge to test all the thousands of drugs that get put on the market. The FDA is the drug police. They determine policy and safety, but in general, they do not test. They rely heavily on the drug companies for their results.”

Oliver and Marge traded looks.

“That’s incredible!” Marge shook her head. “Who protects the consumer?”

“The integrity of the drug company.”

“We’re in big trouble,” Oliver stated.

“Actually, it’s not as bad you think,” Decameron said. “It’s not that drug companies are the bastion of honesty. But they are practical animals. An unsafe drug goes on the market, it spells L-A-W-S-U-I-T-S. They have a vested interest in making sure the drug is safe.”

“How about safe and effective?” Oliver asked.

“Effective?” Decameron raised his brow. “Of course, the drug must be effective.” He paused. “How effective? Well, that’s another issue entirely.”

6

The accusing voice hit Decker in the face like a bucket of ice.

“What the hell is going on!” it boomed.

Bram said, “Can you please let the man walk through the door first?” He stepped aside, allowing Decker to enter.

A sea of eyes upon him. With a sweeping glance, Decker took them all in. By now, he could tell who was who. Luke appeared older than his twin, his face fleshier and heavily lined, his eyes weary and cushioned with deep pouches. He was dressed in jeans and a sweater, his feet housed in sandals and socks. Unlike his twin, he wasn’t wearing glasses. Could be he had on contacts.

Mr. Booming Voice was Paul, the odd man of the trio. Handsome, though, with fiery blue eyes that held a nervous twitch. He blinked often and hard. He wore the standard gray business suit, but the tie was off, the white shirt was open at the collar.

Maggie and Michael sat on the sofa, eyes on Bram’s face. The remaining sister, Eva, was off to the side staring into space. Her complexion was as smooth as alabaster, her features fine and delicate. Her hair was pulled back, gold earrings clamped to her lobes. Garbed in a pale pink silk pants suit, she was very striking in an unapproachable way.

Michael got up, took Bram’s coat. “You’re white,” he said. “Let me get you some tea.” He turned to Decker. “Would you like some tea, Lieutenant?”

Decker shook his head.

Maggie stood. “I’ll brew a pot, Michael.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

Bram kissed his sister’s cheek. “Thanks, Mag. Did you take your medication?”

“Yes.” The young woman’s face crumpled. She ran off, disappearing down a hallway.

Paul blinked rapidly. “Can I talk now or do I have to raise my hand?”

Bram gave him a tired glance. “Why don’t we all sit down.”

“I don’t feel like sitting,” Paul said.

“Fine, Paul. You stand. I’ll sit.” Bram went into the living room and sank into the floral-faded overstuffed couch. Paul continued to pace, Eva remained leaning against the gold flocked-papered wall of the entry hall, staring upward at the dusty chandelier. Some of the brass fittings had been corroded rusty red.

Decker surveyed the room once again. The worn sofa took up most of the space. It was a three-piece sectional and faced two lumpy overstuffed chairs. A distressed-wood coffee table stood amid the seating. It held a half-dozen garden magazines and the King James Bible. In the far corner was a black grand piano, the sound box lid shut tight. Again, Decker was struck by the absence of any art on the walls. Just montage after montage of family photographs. He sat in one of the chairs.

Bram asked, “How’s Mom doing?”

“She’s sleeping.” Michael tugged at his sweater. “I gave her tea to keep her fluids up. She drank a little. Main thing is to keep her quiet-”

“I believe you used the word medicated,” Luke said.

“If absolutely necessary,” Michael answered.

Bram asked, “Did you give her something else?”

“Nothing since we last spoke.”

“Good,” Bram said. “One should last her through the night.”

“Which is good.” Paul paced the carpet, his lids twitching as he talked. “Because the news is on TV. Shots of the car. I don’t think she could stand it.”

“Phone’s been ringing nonstop,” Michael said. “I’ve unplugged it here, but you can hear it from the kitchen.”

“Machine on?” Bram asked.

“Yeah, but it’s ru

Bram said, “Why don’t you do this? Make another a

Paul said, “You’re doing the service?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be Catholic,” Bram said. “Or you can do it, if you want.”

Paul didn’t answer, continued to pace, eyes moving like shutters.

Bram said, “What time?”

“Two?” Luke asked.

Michael said, “What about Uncle Caleb? He’s going to want to be here.”

“You’re right,” Bram said. “I’ll call him. How about three? That should give him enough time to get out here.”

Nods all around.

Bram turned back to Michael. “‘A memorial service at three P.M., First Church of the Christ Child. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be made in Dr. Sparks’s name to local charities.’ Sound okay?”

The room fell silent.

Bram spoke to Michael: “Go make the message, Mike, then call Dad’s service and let them know the plan.”

“I should get this cleared with Pastor Collins,” Michael said.

“Fine. Call him up. I’m sure you won’t have any problems.”

Without protest, Michael left the room.

Bram looked at Decker. “My father was a very prominent man. I’m sure he’ll get a big crowd. Any way the police can help us direct traffic so we can make this thing as orderly as possible?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Decker said.

“Thank you,” Bram said. “Who wants to pick up Uncle Caleb from the airport?”

“I’ll do it,” Paul said. “Just get me the information.”

Again, nobody spoke.

“How’d the news get out so fast?” Paul demanded of Decker.

“Newspeople have lots of contacts.” Decker took out a notebook. “Somebody had a big mouth and leaked it. I’m sorry.”

Maggie came back in with the tea, handed it to the priest. He said, “You should lie down. You’re pale.”

“I’m fine,” she said weakly.

Bram said, “Then come sit with me.”

Maggie nestled deep into her brother’s arms.

Paul sat down, blinking hard. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Decker took out a pad. “Your father’s car was discovered by a busboy in the alley behind Tracadero’s, around…eight-thirty tonight.” Decker said, “The Buick was parked at an off angle. He peeked inside and saw a homicide victim-”

“How…” Paul asked. “How did it-”

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Maggie interrupted, “but I don’t want to hear details.”

“I don’t, either.” Luke turned to his twin. “It was bad?”

Bram just shook his head. Decker’s eyes moved between the twins. They not only looked alike, but sounded exactly alike. Soft, deep voices, similar inflections.

To Paul, Decker said, “If you’d like, Mr. Sparks, I can tell you more privately. But first, let me say this. We haven’t got a suspect or a motive right now. I’ve got men at the scene-”

“Does anyone know what Dad was doing at Tracadero’s?” Luke asked.

Bram said, “Lieutenant Decker and I were talking about that. I don’t have the faintest idea.”

“Me, either,” Michael said, reentering the room.

Paul stood, stared at the ceiling. It seemed to calm his tic. “Maybe it was somebody’s birthday. Somebody at the hospital.”