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Chamber featured floor to ceiling green shag carpeting, exotic plants, animal prints, and even a working waterfall on the far wall. The room wasn’t an exact replica of the Jungle Room, however; the furnishings had been reorganized to suit the specialized needs of the space. So, while many of the pieces that appeared in Bloomquist’s version of the room were close copies of those featured in the actual Jungle Room, Bloomquist’s version also included rows of folding chairs lined up to face the casket, which rested low on a replica of the famed kidney-shaped stone table.
    It was, in a word, hideous.
    Yet not quite as hideous as Amy Miller’s present mood as she sat in the third row of chairs, watching as mourners filed in and out. The wake was surprisingly crowded, yet not a single person had opted to occupy the two empty chairs on either side of Amy. She had never felt more alone.
    But while alone, she wasn’t unnoticed. Several cops, uniformed and plainclothes alike, scoped out the space—and one detective in particular kept glancing in her direction, twirling the ends of his handlebar moustache. She thought he was sizing her up for a motive. Every time she looked at him, he seemed to be looking at her. And once she was sure she saw him and a uniformed cop point at her while they whispered to one another. She didn’t realize it was because her legs, usually carefully hidden, were really quite stunning in her short black skirt and black tights. She could only feel guilty as she looked away.
    â€œWho knew the old coot was such an Elvis freak?”
    â€œJane,” Amy smiled for the first time that day. “You’re here.”
    â€œAnd what’s with,” Jane pulled on her fingertips, “these?” She sat down next to Amy and lifted her giant bag on top of her lap.
    â€œHe’s wearing the Band-Aids?”
    â€œYep,” she said, matter-of-factly and she looked around the room.
    â€œI’m so happy you’re here,” said Amy.
    â€œLike I was going to miss Graceland?”
    â€œPretty incredible, isn’t it.” Amy shook her head.
    â€œIt almost makes me want other people I know to start kicking it so I can get a look at some of these other rooms.” Jane turned to Amy. “Did you know they had a Paris Chamber?”
    â€œI didn’t, no.”
    Jane sighed. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris,” she said, wistfully before turning her attention back to the crowd. “I can’t believe this turnout. You always made Heimlich seem like such a pariah. But look at all these people.”
    â€œAgain. Who knew?”
    At that moment, a child a little older than Zoë ran up to the coffin in the front of the room. Amy winced as the child leaned over the casket and squealed. “Oh, Poppy! Oh, no. What have they done to you!”
    Amy buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my God. I killed him. Oh, God. I’m so cursed.”
    Jane embraced her shaken pal. “You didn’t kill him, Amy. He was old.”
    â€œ They think I did it,” Amy whispered as she subtly nodded to the officers across the room. Jane whipped her head around dramatically, apparently not getting the hint, and nearly shouted. “Who? What? You mean those cops over there,” she pointed with her thumb. The detective with the handlebar moustache smiled at Jane and she smiled back.
    â€œJust like I killed my parents,” Amy gasped.
    Jane turned back around to face Amy and shook her head. “First of all, you did not kill your parents.”
    â€œI encouraged them to take that trip.”
    â€œYou mentioned it might be cool if they checked out the rain forests of Brazil. You did not make them go. And you did not—”
    â€œStill.”
    They sat in silence, watching the child as he continued to rant. “Oh, Grandfather! Oh, how could this happen! How could this be ?” he shook his small head in despair as he beat