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And then he was dead.

Completely unexpected. For each and every one of them.

Chuckling, Lee wondered if it was a joke when Sugar called to tell her that Mikey was dead. But no, no joke. Definitely not.

The worst thing about Mikey's death was not his death, but that there were no real answers. It hadn't been murder; or an accident, like in the kitchen or on the street; or health-related, like a heart attack (which could have happened, because heart attacks could happen to the "right" people), or an illness that Mikey hadn't discovered or told anyone about. None of that. What had happened was what no one thought would ever happen.

Suicide. Shot. In the head. On the State Street Bridge.

Why? No idea. No one knew, and there was no explanation. No signs, no warning, no suicide note. From one moment to the next, Michael was dead.

Her phone had rung early in the morning, and actually Lee would have liked to sleep a little longer, but the sound was on and it just would not stop. Normally, she put her phone on silent in the evening and put it on the nightstand with the screen facing down, but tonight she fell into bed dead tired and went straight to sleep. The display said Sugar, which was strange because her childhood friend would not normally call at this time, knowing that Chicago was two hours away.



 The display said Sugar, which was strange because her childhood friend would not normally call at this time, knowing that Chicago was two hours away

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There was always something strange about funerals, because there was always the question of how to behave on that day. There was no code of conduct for funerals.

You would think that the most important people would gather on that day. Like I said, you would think. But someone was missing. Carmy.

The little brother was missing. Without notice. The youngest child had simply not come. The one who adored his big brother and always wanted to work in his restaurant.

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