‘The mirror?’

The surgeon named Hank signaled to the nurse. ‘Before I give this to you, young man, let me warn you: this is going to be a major shock. Do not panic. Many people feel disoriented when they first see the change. Many suffer an identity crisis.’

‘Thank you,’ the patient said tonelessly. ‘Can I have the mirror now?’

It was the nurse who brought it over. The patient took it in his hands and gazed at his reflection. The man, the surgeon and the nurse all watched for his reaction. But there was none. The patient looked at his reflection as he would on any normal day. His expression remained unchanged.

‘How do you like it?’ the surgeon asked.

‘You do very good work, Doctor. I assume your bill has been taken care of.’

‘It has, thank you.’

‘When can I get out of this bed?’

‘Another day of rest is all I think you’ll need.’

‘And how long before I can start strenuous exercise?’

‘Strenuous exercise? But why, if…?’ He caught himself, remembering the danger in asking too many questions. ‘If all goes okay, another week or so.’

Stan found a pay phone near Filene’s Basement. He dug deep into his pockets and pulled out a roll of quarters. He dropped a few into the slot and dialed. After three rings, a receptionist answered the call.

‘Charles Slackson, attorney-at-law. May I help you?’

‘Let me speak to Charlie.’

‘Whom shall I say is calling?’

‘An old friend,’ Stan snapped.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll need – ’

‘Just put him on, sweetheart, or I’ll rip your tongue out of your air-filled head.’

There was a stunned silence. Stan listened to the click as she put him on hold. A few seconds later, a man picked up the line.

‘Hello?’

‘Charlie? It’s me, Stan.’

‘Jesus, Stan, did you have to scare my secretary half to death?’

‘Sorry about that. I didn’t want to give my name.’

‘I don’t blame you, old pal.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The B Man is looking for you. And he is not in a very good mood about it.’

‘So I figured.’

‘Where the hell are you, Stan?’

‘Don’t worry about that. I need to ask you a legal question.’

‘A legit one?’

‘Yes.’

‘I normally don’t do legit cases. Scams are my specialty.’

‘As I am well aware.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve come up with a legitimate way for us to make some money, Stan. I prefer you as the sleazy con man that you are.’

‘I’ll try not to change.’

‘Okay, what’s the question?’

‘You know of course that my brother kicked off in Australia.’

‘Are you kidding? It was all over the news for weeks.’

‘My question is about his estate. He didn’t have a will so who gets his dough?’

‘It depends. Is it true that your brother eloped with that Laura Ayars a few days before he drowned?’

‘Yup.’

‘Man, is she gorgeous or what? I used to have one of her calendars in my kitchen.’

‘Super, Charlie. Now what about my brother’s money?’

‘Right. I got off track a little there. So they were officially married before he died?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then the news isn’t too good for you, Stan.’

‘What do you mean? I’m his only living blood relative.’

‘Courts don’t care much about blood. It’s what we call the intestacy statute.’

‘In layman’s terms, Charlie.’

‘In your case, it’s simply this: no will and the widow gets everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Everything.’

‘Even if she’s already loaded?’

‘Even if she’s the Aga Khan.’

‘Shit!’

‘Sorry, pal. How deep you in the hole to B Man this time?’

‘Six feet under,’ Stan muttered.

‘You better think up a good scam in a hurry or learn how to become invisible. B Man doesn’t like those who owe to hide from him.’

‘I know, Charlie.’

‘You held up well?’

‘Well enough I suppose. All I need is a few more days. Listen, Charlie, there’s a sure thing today at Aqueduct – ’

‘I’ve heard that before.’

‘No, really. Just place this bet for me and – ’

‘No way, Stan. B Man has spread the word. No one is going to cover you.’

‘But, Charlie – ’

‘Look, Stan, just keep me out of this. You’re on your own. I gotta go now.’

Charlie hung up the phone. Stan thought for a moment. Then he smiled. He took out another quarter and made a second call.

Gloria Ayars felt light-headed as she walked down the stairs. She couldn’t help it. For the first time since David’s death, there was a reason to smile. True, she and her family were still in mourning. She still wanted to cry constantly for their loss. But something nice had finally happened and there wasn’t anything wrong with being happy about it.

Stan had just called her and asked her out for tomorrow night. It was not really a date, she kept reminding herself. It was just a friendly dinner. Nothing more. There was absolutely no reason to build it into something that it wasn’t.

So why did she feel warm inside?

Gloria had not been with a man for so long. She had not even had a date, had not wanted to be near a man in a year. Not since… She closed her eyes. Why must she be reminded of that now? Why must she be reminded that she was not fit to be with someone like Stan? Why must she be reminded that she was only fit to be abused by filth and scum?

No! I’m not scum! That was in the past. That Gloria Ayars no longer exists. She’s dead and buried, thank God…

‘Just tell me what happened!’

Her father’s authoritative shout jarred her back into reality. He was on the phone, angrily lecturing someone – probably one of the new interns at the hospital. Gloria began to move down the hall and away from his study so that she could not listen in.

‘Did she kill David or didn’t she?’

Gloria froze.

Her father’s voice grew angry. ‘Couldn’t you stop her?’

He was silent now, allowing the whoever was on the other end to answer his question. When James spoke again, his voice was calmer, more in control.

‘I know. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.’ Pause. ‘I agree. It was probably suicide.’

Gloria felt her heart slam into her throat. She stopped breathing.

‘No, that wouldn’t do any good now,’ he continued. ‘Do you think she was telling the truth? Uh-huh. Right. I guess there is nothing we can do.’ Pause. ‘Don’t talk that way.’ His voice was angry again. ‘Do you hear me? I said don’t say that. It’s not true. Not a word of it.’ Pause. ‘Never!’

Dr James Ayars slammed the phone down. Gloria continued to hold her breath, her back pushed up against the wall. There must be a million people named David, she reminded herself. Her father must have plenty of patients with that name.

The details of death.

Laura held her sister’s hand tightly. Her eyes moved about the wood-paneled law office. The chairs were large and plush. Paintings of fox-hunting adorned the walls. The large desk in front of her was beautifully polished oak, the bookshelf behind it neatly arranged with law journals.

Clip was there. So was T.C. and Earl and Timmy and her father. Her mother, of course, had not been invited. Laura had however asked Stan to come. She was puzzled that he had not shown up.

Mr Averall Thompson, the Celtics’ lawyer and long-time friend of Clip Arnstein, leaned forward. ‘Let me make this as quick and simple as possible. Will that be okay, Mrs Baskin?’

Laura nodded to him.

‘First, please accept my most sincere belated condolences on your loss.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And second, let me apologize for the delay in settling these matters. Whenever the deceased does not execute a will there is always some degree of confusion.’

‘I understand, Mr Thompson. No apology is necessary. ’