B Is For Burglar

Epilogue

I've been in the hospital now for two days with my left arm in a cast. There's an orthopedist coming in this afternoon to assess the X rays and figure out what kind of rehabilitation I'll need once I get out of here. I've talked to Julia Ochsner by phone and she's invited me to recuperate at her place down in Florida. She promises sunshine and rest, but I suspect she sees it as a chance to set me up as a fourth for bridge. My final bill came to $1,987.35 but she says she won't pay me until I arrive on her doorstep. You gotta watch out for little old ladies-they're tough-which is more than I can say for myself. I hurt just about every place there is. I look in the mirror and I see someone else's face: puffy mouth, bruised cheeks, the bridge of my nose looking flat. I'm feeling some other kind of pain as well and I don't know quite what that's made of. I'm closing the file, but the story's not* over yet. We'll have to wait and see what the courts do now, and I've learned to be cautious about that. In the meantime, I stare out the window at the palms and wonder how many times I'll dance with death before the orchestra packs it in for the night.

– Respectfully submitted, Kinsey Millhone