As soon as Bea heard Arty"s footsteps on the porch, she opened the door just enough to grab him by the arm and yank him inside.
“Hi, Bea. I was surprised when you called. You sounded upset, so I—”
When Arty saw what was lying at the foot of the stairs, he stopped in mid-sentence. An incredulous expression was frozen to his face. He turned to stare at Bea, who answered his befuddled look with a gesture of fear and helplessness. After a very loud silence, Arty then edged closer to the stairway and looked down at Buster"s motionless body. “Isn"t that Buster Vivona?”
“Well, it was.”
“What"s he doing on your floor?”
“He fell down the stairs, and now he"s not breathing.”
“Hmm, that"s not good,” Arty replied with his singular talent for massive understatement. “He doesn"t look too healthy.
