"It will pass," O'Malley said in passing. "She's gone, me lad."
"Gone?"
"She has left the building," O'Malley said rightly.
"She walked out on me?" Gunn cried out. "I mean, I have her new Geo Storm, so she would have had to walk on her seriously nice stems, and with all her second- and third-degree burns, I doubt seriously that she could walk very far."
"No, me lad," O'Malley said in a negative tone. "She's resting in the arms of Jesus."
"She ran away with my accountant?" Gunn gasped unaccountably.
Officer O'Malley shook his head. "I said Gee-zuss, not hey-Zeus."
Gunn pursed his lips. "That's the way my accountant says his name."
"Your accountant has a messiah complex, does he?" O'Malley asked with complexity in a messianic way.
"Don't they all?" Gunn mused. "His full name is Jesus God, if that's any indication. His real name was Romulus Remus, but he paid to have it changed."
"Fascinating," Officer O'Malley said irreverently. "But Cat didn't run off with Jesus. She's wandering Jordan's bank and the Stygian shore, she's pushing up peonies, she's off to the happy hunting grounds, and she has sung her own requiem. She is defunct, non-operational, permanently stagnant, and torpid."
"You don't mean ..."
"She is a stiff, she's ripe for the cutting, ready the rib spreader, she's primed to be embalmed, better call the funeral home, write that obituary, she's prepared to biodegrade."
"You can't mean ..."
"She's dead as a doornail, she has kicked her last bucket, and she's dead and gooey as the potatoes in Ireland during the blight that forced my ancestors to flee to Boston to root for the Celtics against our will."
Gunn crumpled to his knees like Cost-Cutter aluminum foil, you know, the kind that never tears in a straight line, and no matter how careful you are, when you pull out exactly the amount you need, it still tears like snaggle-teeth and no longer fits the container you're trying to wrap, and then you have to tear off another piece to cover the open spots, which is a conspiracy, I tell you, a scam that cuts less cost and even more aluminum foil!
"I feel your angst," Officer O'Malley said metallically and rapidly.
"Why?!?!?!?!" Gunn exclaimed questioningly and markedly. "Why did she have to die?!?!?!"
"Well, me lad, she bled out, stopped breathing, and became brain dead," O'Malley said breathily in a brainy manner.
Gunn looked up. "She was kind of like that when she was alive!"
"Not like this," Officer O'Malley said naughtily. "I counted thirty-four bullet holes along with a fierce looking infected hangnail on her left ring finger."
Gunn curled into the fetal position and sucked his thumb since he didn't have cigar handy to chew on. "What will I do with all the roses?"
"They'll look lovely on her casket, me lad," Officer O'Malley said lovingly.
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