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Show 57 datebook, the funeral home's certificate. There are lists of instructions for the new occupants of the house-how to work the furnace; where the bulbs are planted; how long it's been since the chimney was last swept. There is her will, the text of an obituary notice, even an informal outline for a small memorial service, if anyone feels any need to have it. Please, she has written. just a small group of friends, in the living room . . . The officer inspects the materials Robeck shows him with interest. "She certainly meant what she said," he muses, "She doesn't want to leave any mess." Then he explains to Robeck that his wife had already been to see them, to discuss with them quite specifically and explicitly her plan, so that no one in the house would be suspected of any ill play, and so that no unnecessary investigation would be required. "There've been a couple of cases like this in recent years," the officer says. "We've never known exactly what to do with them, when they notify you themselves, in advance. It's not against the law, you know. But usually the person has already got cancer or something, so we just check it with the physician, and let it go at that." "I don't want her to do it," Robeck says. "Have you considered psychiatric help?" "She won't go. I can't force her." "You could consider a temporary committment," the officer suggests, and there is a sharper edge to his tone, "there's more than enough evidence here to establish that she's a danger to herself." After the officer goes, Robeck turns back into the bedroom of the house |
