Joyce’s Reviews > A Fatal Delivery > Status Update

She sent dumbbells to be washed & sterilized. She marked clothing items for landfill. She pulled another package from line for inspection. Next.

Sometimes, Jennifer felt warehouse was almost living thing, full of different organs & cells that did nothing but recycle & consume items for return, only to produce more items for sale, more returns -endless digestive churn in which she, Jennifer, played part of enzyme, breaking items down for rerouting

Jennifer was that kind of person: practical. Even tempered. Inclined to take what came to her - whether broken air conditioner or last-minute plea from her boss - w/out complaint or agitation.

they had found trilogy in unopened package @ scene. Not that that got them anywhere. It was just more ancillary detritus of life suddenly abbreviated.

Interesting, Lenora. 26 years old, but one of those people who seemed to oscillate in sort of timelessness, appearing @ once both far older & younger than her age.

Anne had been dead for @ least hour by time I found her.

Det. Rourke gave funny look, as if Lenora, who'd been sitting across for 45 minutes, had only just blinked into view. "How can you be sure of that?"

"Because of Topher. Anne always let him out @ 9 a.m. But she didn't that day. So she must have been dead already."

"You're very observant. You'd make excellent detective."

She didn't look like ... cops who were often featured in true-crime docuseries ... Det. Rourke looked like someone you might find running up & down @ kids' soccer game, cheering on grandchild. She had rah-rah energy, warmth & enthusiasm.

Lenora had to miss day of work to speak w/police. she knew, in a sense, work wouldn't miss her. One driver wouldn't slow rhythm of deliveries, arterial churn of [various items and] life, purchased life, endless circulating to & from destinations. But skipping work, disrupting her schedule, unsettled Lenora. It left week distended, misshapen in middle, like overstuffed package.

water was < 100 yds away, making it perfect place to dispose of evidence - pain in @$$ for police. Still. currents in sound weren't especially strong; if murder weapon had been chucked out into water, it was very likely sitting where it had been dropped.

Cynicism was for young people, who could afford secret hope that someday, somewhere, someone would come along to undo it.

Murder scenes felt like some distorted cocktail party - blunted greetings & small talk & everyone stepping neatly around some underlying horror.

she didn't trust him. 40 years old, unmarried, w/job as "content curator," whatever that meant. She didn't trust that whole generation.