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He
looked
down
at
his
liver-spotted
hands
.
In
the
living
room
,
the
clock
softly
chimed
twelve-thirty
.
"
I
decided
that
a
man
in
your
profession
is
used
to
looking
at
symptoms
and
seeing
the
diseases
underneath
...
and
I
decided
I
had
to
talk
straight
to
you
when
Mortonson
down
at
the
funeral
home
told
me
you
'd
ordered
a
grave
liner
instead
of
a
sealing
vault
.
"
Louis
looked
at
Jud
for
a
long
time
,
saying
nothing
.
Jud
flushed
deeply
but
did
n't
look
away
.
Finally
Louis
said
:
"
Sounds
like
maybe
you
did
a
little
snooping
,
Jud
.
I
am
sorry
because
of
it
.
"
"
I
did
n't
ask
him
which
you
bought
.
"
"
Not
right
out
,
maybe
.
"
But
Jud
did
not
reply
,
and
although
his
blush
had
deepened
even
more
--
his
complexion
was
approaching
a
plum
color
now
--
his
eyes
still
did
n't
waver
.
At
last
,
Louis
sighed
.
He
felt
unutterably
tired
.
"
Oh
,
fuck
it
.
I
do
n't
care
.
Maybe
you
're
even
right
.
Maybe
it
was
on
my
mind
.
If
it
was
,
it
was
on
the
downside
of
it
.
I
did
n't
think
much
about
what
I
was
ordering
.
I
was
thinking
about
Gage
.
"
"
I
know
you
were
thinking
about
Gage
.
But
you
knew
the
difference
.
Your
uncle
was
an
undertaker
.
"
Yes
,
he
had
known
the
difference
.
A
sealing
vault
was
a
piece
of
construction
work
,
something
which
was
meant
to
last
a
long
,
long
time
.
Concrete
was
poured
into
a
rectangular
mould
reinforced
with
steel
rods
,
and
then
,
after
the
graveside
services
were
over
,
a
crane
lowered
a
slightly
curved
concrete
top
into
place
.
The
lid
was
sealed
with
a
substance
like
the
hot-patch
highway
departments
used
to
fill
potholes
.
Uncle
Carl
had
told
Louis
that
sealant
--
trade-named
Ever-Lock
--
got
itself
a
fearsome
grip
after
all
that
weight
had
been
on
it
for
a
while
.
