Page 85 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. V #7

“He began to slip the organs and the
She took off her gloves and dropped them in an enamelled pedal-bin. “I’ve kept the brain. Most general pathologists don’t bother with fixing brains, but I find them interesting.”
co on-waste back into the body...”
“Good. We’ll hire one at the door. I wonder why so many are left?”
Jane du Lac looked at the clock and then quickly dealt with the liver—“1530 grams”—and the spleen—“165 grams”— and then laid her liver- knife on the low table which rested over the corpse’s legs. She rinsed her hands in a bowl
“The piano.”
of warm water and looked at the male student. “Please make a note: both are within the range of normal weights, and, exteriorly, and on section, were found unremarkable on naked eye examina- tion. Gall-bladder unremarkable. Thanks. Sum- mary: cause of death: acute myocardial infarction due to thrombosis of the anterior descending branch of the left coronary artery. Examination of the brain to follow, but probably not germane to the above.”
“Oh! The violin’s my instrument. We must play together.” Jane du Lac, said, with a sweeping gesture toward the piano across the room. “It’s not bad. Iron-framed and overstrung. Try it.” She looked down at the empty body. “Play something appropriate, perhaps.”
The young man took all this down in a rapid long- hand.
a room! What shall I play? Doing the Lambeth Walk? Perhaps not.” She paused in thought. “Scar- latti? Sonata in F minor, K.466? The beginning? I don’t need sheet music on the stand for that.”
“I guess we’ve finished.” Jane du Lac looked down at the vacant body. “I can think of nothing more.” She raised her eyebrows. “Indeed, not much re- mains.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Jane du Lac, smiling
Tall Martha re-entered the postmortem room. “There are several choir seats available, Jane.”
bus in the anterior descending branch was the final event. An anomalous anatomy didn’t help. I guess the atrioventricular node got hit.” Jane du Lac now faced Tall Martha. “Look. Do something for me. Go to the mortuary office and phone up the switchboard; ask for an outside line on my account and ask switchboard to get the box-office at the Colston Hall. There’s a phone book on the desk. See if there’s a choir seat available.”
“Vaughan-Williams’a Fourth is not his most popu- lar work. It’s criminally underperformed. It’s difficult,” said Tall Martha. “Too innovative: too severe. He said so himself. And it’s rather short; about thirty-five minutes. Only the Eighth is shorter.” She paused. “Yet, oddly enough, it’s quite frequently performed—and appreciated—in East- ern Europe. Only fine music can stand cultural translation.”
Tall Martha smiled, nodded and left the room.
“That’s true,” agreed Jane du Lac, her manner thoughtful. She laid a hand on Tall Martha’s fore- arm. “Do you play?” There was a note of eagerness in her voice.
Tall Martha sat on a steel-framed canvas chair at the piano, raised the lid of the keyboard and played a few scales in plain and contrary motion. “In tune. A rich sound. I like the reverb. What
broadly.
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