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Leaving Mrs. Drury to come to terms with the relics of her daughter's life, A
When the day came for her to die, A
Opening the refrigerator, she saw a jar of dill pickles, three Old Milwaukees, a shoe box lid full of film, half a stick of margarine still in its paper wrapper, some processed American cheese slices, half a loaf of bread, and a shriveled carrot. A bachelor's refrigerator. The freezer wasn't any more appetizing. There was a bag of frozen french fries and a pint of ice cream, open with a spoon with a bamboo handle and one serrated edge stuck in it.
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"Yes," A
Since Sheila was the photographer, A
The snicking sound of snapshots shuffling and the hot, still air quickly dulled A
"Someone has already been through my daughter's things," Mrs. Drury said sharply.
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Sheila's mother just glared.
"Just you and me," A
Mrs. Drury seemed to think that over, her lips pursed, wrinkles radiating from beneath her nose like a cat's whiskers. After a moment, she shook her head. "No," she stated flatly. "Not just you and I. Look." Grabbing the edges of the basket between her feet, she gave it a shake. A
"What?" she asked politely.
"There's all different things in here," Mrs. Drury explained with exaggerated patience. "Look: horses." She threw two snapshots onto the coffee table. "Flowers." A picture of blooming cholla was tossed on the pile. "Here's some kind "of dog." A long shot of a coyote looking back over its shoulder was thrust into A
Tears were ru
"I should have noticed," A
A wooden shoe, a ceramic vase made to look like a paper bag, and several other containers stood empty on the coffee table. Someone had dumped their contents into the basket.
"Is there something to drink?" Mrs. Drury asked plaintively.
"I'll get you a glass of water," A
"No," Mrs. Drury said. "To drink."
"Beer?"
"That would be all right."
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They drank in silence, A
"Why would somebody go through your daughter's pictures?" A
"I don't know," Mrs. Drury said. "They weren't any good."
They finished the beers. A
"Might Sheila have taken photographs of something someone didn't want her to see?" A
Mrs. Drury was shaking her head. Her face sagged with confusion and fatigue. "I couldn't ever see why she took any of the pictures that she did. They weren't ever of anything. Just things you see every day. She might've, I suppose. Sheila took pictures of everything and she wasn't ever socially ept."
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By late afternoon they had finished sorting through the photos, collecting boxes from the two bedrooms and even the bath. They found nothing suspicious. No sinister types exchanging packages, no car license numbers, no middle-aged men in motel lobbies with blondes. Either they'd been found and removed or never existed.
Mrs. Drury had a surprisingly little pile she'd chosen to keep. Mostly to be polite, A
Mrs. Drury made toasted cheese sandwiches for supper. They washed them down with a second beer. Mrs. Drury turned on the television and they listened to Cha
After the news, Mrs. Drury left the set on to watch a rerun of an old Andy of Mayberry and A
It smelled faintly of decay and there were specks of dark brown on it that A