“On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicide—it was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Therese—the two paramedics arrived at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer was, and the gas oven, and the beam in the basement from which it was possible to tie a rope.”
“that since Cecilia’s suicide, the Lisbons could hardly wait for night to forget themselves in sleep.”
“I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.”
“A dame that knows the ropes isn't likely to get tied up.”
“He waved a hand at the ropes. “Do you often sleep tied to the bed?”
“You were a painting by Matisse, but you took sleeping pills.”