Ramon nodded thoughtfully, and frowned. “She didn’t go out a lot,” he said. “Didn’t have a lot of people over.”

It was Adrienne’s turn to nod.

“Someone that pretty, you’d think… “ He let the thought die, then changed the subject. “What about Jack?” he asked. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Adrienne shook her head. “I don’t know. My landlady lives upstairs and—she’s not real big on dogs.”

“‘Cause I was thinkin’,” Ramon said. “Maybe I could take him—I mean, if you don’t want him—if you can’t have him. I like dogs. And since it’s Nikki’s dog… it would be kind of special.”

Adrienne thought it over—for about half a second. “Well, that would be… just great!” It occurred to her that Ramon had had a crush on her sister.

“Only… if you could keep him for a week or maybe two?” Ramon suggested. “I’m just changing roommates and I got to square it with the new guy. I mean, I can make it a condition. This guy I got lined up, if he doesn’t like dogs—I just find someone who does.”

Adrienne nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! A couple of weeks. No problem.”

Ramon looked pleased. “Well, that’s great,” he said.

She put his business card in her handbag, and the laptop in its case, which was on the floor beside the desk. Then she clipped the leash to Jack’s collar, slung the computer case over her shoulder, and stepped out into the corridor. Together, she and Ramon rode the elevator down to the lobby, and went outside.

“You want a taxi?”

Adrienne shook her head. “I’ll walk him, first.”

The doorman nodded, and they shook hands. “So… I’ll wait to hear from you,” he told her.

She smiled and, at a tug from Jack, lurched toward the curb.

Ramon beamed. “I’m a dog owner,” he said to no one in particular. “How about that?”

She was standing in the crowd on the platform at Metro Center, waiting for the Red Line train that would take her to Cleveland Park. And the train was going to be there any second. Adrienne knew that because the glass discs at the edge of the platform were beginning to blink, a staccato light show that she could see between the legs of the waiting passengers. Approaching the platform and peering to the left, she saw the train’s headlight flickering in the tunnel. Somewhere, a telephone began to ring.

But not in her dream. The phone was real, and the Metro was a phantom. She knew this even as she dreamt about it, but knowing didn’t make any difference. The dream still had her in its grip as she fumbled for the receiver on her bedside table.

“Hello?”

The voice at the other end identified itself as “Ms. Neumann,” from the Medical Examiner’s office. “I’m calling about Nicole Sullivan’s remains? Who am I speaking with?”

The word—remains—made Adrienne sit up, and the act of sitting up lifted her out of the dream. “This is Nikki’s sister. Half sister. Adrienne Cope.”

“The police report lists you as the next of kin.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, we need the name of a funeral home—whoever’s going to process the rem—”

Adrienne interrupted. “I understand.” Process the remains? As if Nikki were a kind of cheese or information.

“And?” The clerk’s impatience was palpable.

“I’ve never done this before,” Adrienne explained. “So… I haven’t really decided—”

“I can fax you a list, if you have a machine,” the clerk suggested.

“I do,” Adrienne replied. “I have one right here.” She gave her the number, and the clerk said that she’d wait for a reply.

“There’s a release for the remains. So we can send them wherever you tell us.”

“Okay.”

“If we could have it back this afternoon? That would be good,” the clerk added.

“I’ll get it to you right away,” Adrienne promised, returning the receiver to its hook. Then she got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and attached the leash to Jack’s collar. Mrs. Spears didn’t allow pets in the house, but “under the circumstances… “ she’d agreed that Jack could stay until next weekend, by which time Ramon would be able to take him in.

Jack was already at the door, slapping it with his paws, eager to go for his walk.

As the two of them left the house, they entered a patch of garden on the way to the garage, where Adrienne pushed a button that sent the segmented door rattling up from the floor. With the door curling into the roof, Jack yanked her into the alley behind the houses.

Out on the street, Adrienne was thinking that although she didn’t have time to take care of the dog, she was going to miss him. It was amazing how many people stopped to talk—ostensibly to her, but actually to Jack. Though it was only a block away, it took her almost ten minutes to get to Heller’s Bakery. There, she tied the leash to a parking meter and went in to get a sweet roll, emerging a few minutes later with a croissant for Jack.

By the time she got back to the apartment, the fax machine was disgorging the last page of a multipage fax from the Medical Examiner’s office. Jack jumped onto the couch and curled up, as Adrienne retrieved a handful of pages from the floor. At a glance, she saw that they comprised an alphabetized list of establishments providing “mortuary services” in the District of Columbia.

She called the Albion Funeral Home, which was near the top of the list. The man at the other end had the soft and confidential voice of a used-car salesman on Qaaludes. When she interrupted his spiel to make it clear that she wasn’t interested in an elaborate service, he offered, without missing a beat, the most “economical” alternative, one that involved no “viewing” or “service” and a “classic,” if “basic,” coffin. Even so, it was soon clear that even the simplest burial was going to cost thousands of dollars.

In his silky voice, Barrett Albion belittled the amount, noting that “We take most of the major credit cards with the exception of American Express.” When Adrienne fell silent at the prospect of the expense, he reminded her that “the estate will often release funds for this purpose.”

Once again, she hesitated. She’d imagined a decent funeral for her sister, with her friends and relatives gathered in mourning, there to remember her. But there wasn’t any way for that to happen, really. She’d looked in Nikki’s computer, and there wasn’t anyone, really. Just Adrienne, Ramon, the building superintendent, and her shrink. Amtrak and Avis. Tom Yum Thai.

The truth was, Nikki didn’t have any friends. Not really. Not at all.

“What about… cremation?” Adrienne sputtered. She could hear the funeral director catch his breath at the other end of the line.

After a moment, he replied, “Well, that is an option.”

“Fine,” Adrienne shot back in a voice so sharp that Jack’s ears came to attention. “Let’s do that, then.”

Albion sighed. “We only cremate twice a week,” he told her. “On Tuesdays and Fridays. So it will be Saturday before we can—”

“Saturday’s fine.”

But even as she selected this “alternative,” Adrienne felt queasy about it. There ought to be a ceremony, she thought. Something.

She and the funeral director nailed down the remaining details, including the number and expiration date of Adrienne’s Visa card and the selection of a “receptacle.” The most “economical” was a blue cardboard box—“really rather tasteful.” Adrienne couldn’t face the idea of “a box,” and opted for an urn, the “classic.” And yes, she would be the one to claim the urn once the “treatment” was completed.

“Will you pick it up in person?” Albion asked. “Or would you rather we had it sent? We could FedEx—”

“I’ll get it myself in person,” Adrienne replied, thinking, FedEx? They want to FedEx my sister to me? As she hung up the phone, she burst into tears. Jack lifted his muzzle from the compact circle that he’d formed, and issued a questioning woof.