Grandpa chuckled, following his grandson's feet up to Mr. Koberman's room.
«Grandma mustn't know about this; she wouldn't like it,» said Douglas. He pushed the door wide open. «There.»
Grandfather gasped.
Douglas remembered the next few hours all the rest of his life. Standing over Mr. Koberman's naked body, the coroner and his assistants. Grandma, downstairs, asking somebody, «What's going on up there?» and Grandpa saying, shakily, «I'll take Douglas away on a long vacation so he can forget this whole ghastly affair. Ghastly, ghastly affair!»
Douglas said, «Why should it be bad? I don't see anything bad. I don't feel bad.»
The coroner shivered and said, «Koberman's dead, all right.»
His assistant sweated. «Did you see those things in the pans of water and in the wrapping paper?»
«Oh, my God, my God, yes, I saw them.»
«Christ.»
The coroner bent over Mr. Koberman's body again. «This better be kept secret, boys. It wasn't murder. It was a mercy the boy acted. God knows what might have happened if he hadn't.»
«What was Koberman? A vampire? A monster?»
«Maybe. I don't know. Something-not human.» The coroner moved his hands deftly over the suture.
Douglas was proud of his work. He'd gone to much trouble. He had watched Grandmother carefully and remembered. Needle and thread and all. All in all, Mr. Koberman was as neat a job as any chicken ever popped into hell by Grandma.
«I heard the boy say that Koberman lived even after all those _things_ were taken out of him.» The coroner looked at the triangles and chains and pyramids floating in the pans of water. «Kept on _living_. God.»
«Did the boy say that?»
«He did.»
«Then, what _did_ kill Koberman?»
The coroner drew a few strands of sewing thread from their bedding.
«This…» he said.
Sunlight blinked coldly off a half-revealed treasure trove; six dollars and seventy cents' worth of silver dimes inside Mr. Koberman's chest.
«I think Douglas made a wise investment,» said the coroner, sewing the flesh back up over the «dressing» quickly.
