“Yeah, from the clothes. That’s what Mr. Packard was wearing last night.”

“You left him here by himself?” I asked as I began walking over to the body on the bench.

“He was doing chest when I left. He had his own key, to lock up. Marshall had told me that was okay. And Mr. Packard said he had a spotter coming,” Bobo said defensively. “I had a date, and it was closing time.” Bobo’s voice got stronger and angrier as he saw he was going to have to justify leaving Del alone in the gym. At least he didn’t sound nauseated anymore.

I finally got to the corner. It had been a long journey. Before I got there, I took a deep breath, held it, and bent over to check Del’s wrist. I had never touched Del alive, and I didn’t want to do it now that he was dead, but if there was any chance there was a spark of life left…

His skin felt strange, rubbery, or it might have been my imagination. The smell was not my imagination, nor was the lack of pulse. To make absolutely sure, I held my big watch in front of Del’s nostrils. There were trails of dried blood running from them. I bit my lip hard, forced myself to hold still a moment. When I pulled my arm back to my side, the watch face was clear. I found myself backing up for the first two feet, as if it would be irreverent or dangerous to turn my back on poor Del Packard. I hadn’t been scared of him when I’d been able to talk to him. It was absurd to be nervous around him now. But I had to tell myself that several times.

I picked up the phone again and punched in some numbers. I looked up at Bobo while I waited for the ring. He was staring at the body in the corner with a horrified fascination. Perhaps this was the first dead person he’d ever seen. I reached over and patted the back of his big hand, lying on the counter. He turned it over and clutched my fingers.

“Umhum,” rumbled a deep voice at the other end of the line.

“Claude,” I said.

“Lily,” he said, warm and relaxed.