The Thirteen Read Online Free PDF Page B

do.” She picked up her purse, a shade that matched her jacket, and slid it over her shoulder. Just before she went out the door, she shot Izzy a look that was also incomprehensible.
    Izzy stood there for a minute after her daughter had gone, then sighed deeply and poked her head into the living room. “Tula, can I have a quick word?”
    The old woman looked up from her drink with a nervous expression, then got up out of her chair and made her way around the guests to the kitchen, carrying her wineglass.
    Izzy waved her over to the back door. “Get to the hospital. Audra’s been alone for hours. Who knows what trouble she might have gotten up to.”
    “I can’t imagine she could get up to much,” Tula said.
    “Just go. I’ll be along shortly.”
    Tula nodded and plunked her glass on the counter. Red wine sloshed over the edge. Izzy stared at the old lady, disgusted.
    “Sorry,” Tula said quickly, then grinned. “Glass is half full, eh?”
    “It’s half empty, Tula. Now go, please.”
    Tula picked up her purse from a pile of others by the coat rack near the kitchen door, and scuttled out of the house.
    Izzy rubbed her forehead. She felt a headache coming on, but she plastered a broad smile on her face—entirely inappropriate for the circumstances—and breezed into the living room, where the guests were subdued, mournful, bereft.
    “Who wants another drink?” she said.
    Everyone.

THREE
    I ZZY WAS TALL FOR A WOMAN , with striking features that had just begun the process of gentle aging. The lines around her mouth and eyes were still soft; she looked elegant, like a woman of a certain age advertising cosmetics. Middle age suited her, as her height suited her. She used both to full advantage whenever necessary.
    Standing over Audra’s
    (poor Audra)
    bed, Izzy felt powerful, and very, very healthy. Being in the presence of illness gave her such a feeling of vitality.
    Audra’s eyes were closed. Izzy leaned over and lay her cool hand on Audra’s forehead, tenderly.
    “Poor Audra,” she purred. “Wake up.”
    The woman’s eyelids twitched and Izzy suspected she was faking. But then she opened her eyes. The whites were lightly yellowed, as if from jaundice.
    “Hello,” Izzy said. “Hate to say it, but you don’t look very good.”
    Audra rolled her eyes away from Izzy and tried to sit up. This appeared to cause her pain, and she dropped back with a groan. Her voice was raspy, like bees and sandpaper, the sounds from a throat not just dry but red and tortured. “What’s wrong with me?”
    “Well, you’re not well, are you? Has something recently happened that made you ill?” But Izzy didn’t want to be so sarcastic, at least not yet, so she changed the subject. “You missed Margaret’s funeral today—Chick’s. I know how close you two were … Anyway, it was a beautiful service, blah blah blah.”
    She sat down on the edge of the bed, not bothering to mitigate her weight. The bed shifted, and Audra with it, eliciting another groan.
    “Closed casket, of course, since she was crispy-fried. You know, if you are going to light yourself on fire, I swear, do not use hairspray first. Ugh.”
    Izzy had rushed to the funeral home, daubing her eyes with a handkerchief, had insisted on seeing her friend. The kid on duty had finally allowed her a peek
    (wasn’t he surprised when she ceased her weeping and looked upon the blackened remains of her friend with a sardonic twist of the lips)
    Audra clutched her throat. “Get me some water, will you?”
    “What the hell were you two thinking?” Izzy said, unable to play the role any longer.
    “I didn’t have anything to do with Chick’s … with the—” Audra’s eyes puddled with tears. She snuffled thick mucus up her nose. “I don’t want to hear—”
    Izzy made a face. “You were in cahoots. A little party of two. Bill died anyway, didn’t he? And now Chick is dead, and you’re … ill.”
    “How long will I be here?”
    Izzy got off the