Mortal Coil The Doctor Blake Mysteries

Do you mind?

-What?

-What do you think?

-We ready?

-We're ready.

Gentlemen.

Tell you when to lift.

And lift.

Take it easy, gentlemen.

Just turn this way.

Nice and steady.

There's no hurry.

Nice and easy.

Easy there.

Watch it there!

Watch it! Watch it!

WOMAN SCREAMS

Who's that?

HE SIGHS

HE WINCES

Jane. Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

I'm sure Edith would have been horrified.

Yes, Edith Woodley. Wasn't she, um...

-um...

-One of your father's patients.

Yes, yes. I don't remember ever treating her.

No. She found you rather alarming.

CHARLIE CLEARS HIS THROAT

-Doctor.

-You go.

Well, it looks like he's been shot.

You coming over a bit crook there, Doc?

LUCIEN SIGHS

No, I'm fine, thank you, Charlie. I'm fine.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Sid Bartel.

What, you knew him?

I threw crackers at his horse when I was a boy.

-Dr Harvey.

-Dr Blake.

Single gunshot wound, mid occipital bone.

Yes, explains the bruising round the eyes.

38, I'd say.

You can tell, just by looking?

Experience. Anything else?

His pockets were full of nails, nuts and bolts.

He was a scrap merchant.

And he hadn't had a bath for some time.

I think we can do without any moral judgment.

It was an observation.

He has lice and burrs.

I can see the burrs here.

HE WINCES

As I said, no bath recently.

Well, I'll perform the examination then, shall I?

Facial contusions, some abrasions.

Severity?

Ah, moderate.

He's taken a fall at some point.

Face-first into the grass, I'd say.

No protective injuries.

Look at this.

Pre-mortem bruising to the chest and the arm.

-How pre?

-Two weeks prior to death?

He's been beaten quite severely.

I imagine no-one's claiming the body?

Pauper's grave, then?

Yes.

Perhaps you should bear that in mind

before complaining about his personal hygiene.

Did your housekeeper burn your toast this morning?

Dr Blake, pathology results for Jean Beazley.

Ah, thank you, Sister. Yes.

God help us.

They let all types in here, don't they?

They let you in.

-Hello, mate.

-Harold, good to see you.

Yeah. Bad news?

No, no, nothing. What about you?

What are you doing here, rude health?

I had a bit of a turn a couple of days ago.

-What sort of a turn?

-The old ticker.

What happened?

I'd bottled another batch of whiskey

and I'd found a great place to store it, out of the way, you know?

Not at home, obviously?

I'm too smart for that, Doc.

Anyway, I'm lifting a few boxes and I blacked out.

Bloody lucky the boy was there.

Quite. Your doctor's going to advise you to cut back on the drinking,

-you know that, don't you?

-Yes.

-Harold Morris?

-Present.

When you're ready.

No laughing matter, is it? Getting older.

It's obvious we've been broken in to

and it's up to you to work it out.

That's right, Mr Callow,

which is why I'm shutting this place down until we get it sorted.

What? You can't shut us down.

-We're trying to run a business.

-Dad.

My father's concerned because we have another funeral booked.

The body's prepared, Miriam Tucker will be devastated.

Well, that can go ahead, but that will be all.

-Thank you.

-Follow me.

How long was Edith Woodley's body in here?

Three days.

-Was there a viewing?

-No, she was Anglican.

We keep the bodies in here.

Who else has access?

No-one else, just my daughter and I.

It's obvious we've been broken in to. I'm not the policeman, but...

Thank you, Mr Callow.

Did you and your daughter know Sid Bartel?

Not at all.

Lydia and I put Edith Woodley in the coffin ourselves.

That was yesterday.

Was the lid secured?

The room was locked until we took the coffin for burial.

It's the cool room.

Malcolm Tucker.

Where does this door lead?

To a side driveway. We bring the bodies in through there.

It's the only access.

No sign of forced entry, Mr Callow.

-BELL RINGS

-That'll be the front desk.

Do you mind?

May I help you?

Yes. Um, Dr Lucien Blake, police surgeon.

I understand from the hospital reports

you'll be taking care of the funeral arrangements for Mr Sid Bartel.

Yes.

Um. I would very much like to pay for his funeral.

My father and I were intending to cover the costs.

I would like to handle things properly, for Sid's sake.

Of course.

Thank you.

Ha!

Steven.

It's good to see you.

-I saw your father at the hospital.

-Oh. Was he behaving himself?

Well, mostly. How is he, really?

Ah, he's not getting any younger.

His mates at the RSL are looking out for him, so...

-Yes, I'm sure they are.

-Hmm.

If there's anything I can do, you let me know.

-I was expecting you an hour ago.

-I got held up, sorry.

Six boxes this morning.

Leave them round the back.

-On time, next time.

-Mm-hm.

Ah, thank you.

Have you considered your own arrangements, Doctor?

I took the liberty of giving you two copies,

I'm sure you'd want to spare your family any unnecessary heartache

when your own time comes.

Yes. Ah...I'll let you know.

I'll get a constable to come round

and pick up the rest of those records.

What are you doing here?

Ah, I had some arrangements to take care of.

Well?

Ah, nothing useful from the driver.

Knew who Bartel was, but reckons he had no dealings with him.

Search that storeroom for prints.

We need to find out where Bartel died.

-Start with his house.

-Yes, sir.

Blake?

-You all right there?

-Ah, yes, of course.

Jean?

-Jean?

-I'm here. What is it?

-Um...

-What is it?

..it's, ah, it's a consent form.

Oh? Consent for what?

Well, in the event that I... you know, when...

At some point I'm going to need a funeral, and would you consider...?

Well, would you consent to being my next of kin?

Everything will be paid for but you would be the one they called.

You know, if, in the event that I...

If that's all right.

Shall I be setting one less place for dinner tonight?

Oh, no, no. It's just a formality, if you want to have a read there.

You know old Sid was shot before he was put into Edith Woodley's coffin.

Just sign there.

-Oh.

-Yes.

HE EXHALES DEEPLY

Are you all right, Lucien?

Yes, tickety-boo. How are you feeling?

I'm still a little shaky.

Funerals are grim at the best of times.

Yes, they are.

Who's looking after Sid's horse now?

Sid still had a horse?

Sid's always had a horse.

-Charlie?

-Yeah.

Anything?

Well, I just got here but, ah, have a look at this.

Really?

Ah. Callows Funeral Home.

Very interesting.

Certainly is.

Did you find anything else at the home?

Well, where they keep the bodies, we found three sets of prints.

The old man's, the daughter's and one we can't identify as yet.

Ah.

-Where do you think the horse is?

-No idea.

-Ah, Doctor?

-Yes.

You might want to come and have a look at this.

Ah, goodness me.

How long's he been dead, do you reckon?

Let's have a little look, eh?

MAN EXCLAIMS

Oh!

You just head back into town, all right?

How'd you get on?

Name's Wallace Creen.

Bartel was letting him stay here for a while.

Right. Anything useful?

Not really. Grog's wiped his brain.

I see.

Did he say anything about the horse?

Said his name was Bob.

Bob?

Bob the horse.

HORSE WHINNIES

Bob the horse?

Where have you been, mister?

Charlie, come and check the cart for me.

Hey, good boy.

What say we get you unhitched, hey?

Give you a nice rub-down.

What have you got going on there?

-Doctor?

-Yes?

What do you make of this black paint?

It's not just black paint, Charlie, that's from a car.

Good afternoon, officers.

Can I help you?

There's been some panel work here, Mr Poole.

What happened?

I ran into a fence rail and had to get the panel reworked.

It's nice work.

Where'd you have it done?

Brogan's, up on the main street.

That's interesting.

We just went and had a little chat to Toby Brogan before he came here.

-Didn't we, boss?

-We did.

You want to know what he told us?

Said that you got that ding

from running Sid Bartel's cart off the road.

You want to explain that?

Yeah, all right.

I ran his stupid cart off the road,

he was going 2mph, whistling at his damn horse.

I had to get a body to a funeral.

Sid Bartel had bruises on his arms and legs

from a beating he received two weeks before he died.

I don't know anything about that.

You told everyone about it!

You said you made him beg.

No, I...

I don't remember...that. I...

Sid Bartel was 70 years old.

He was shot up at Fromelles.

And you beat him up for stealing a couple of vases.

-No.

-And you got a laugh from watching him beg for his life.

How about I take you down to the cells at the station

and show you exactly how that feels?

It was me boss.

Me boss made me do it.

Put them in the cells.

I dunno know what he's told you and I don't care, this is ridiculous.

-Superintendent!

-Put them in the cells.

Get your hand off me!

Anything?

Yeah. We found this in Alfred Poole's possessions.

It's a 38.

And there's three live rounds still in the chamber.

It's been fired recently.

I'll send it to Melbourne, see if they can find a match on it.

And if we don't get a match?

Well, we better just hope we find out where Bartel was killed.

Is that yours?

Yes.

Want to help me find who killed your master?

Eh? Be a detective with me?

Here. Here, hey.

Right.

Here we go, Bob. Giddy-up, I suppose.

HORSE WHINNIES

Hmm? Off we go.

Bob?

Come on, Bob.

Ah, that's the one.

Whoa, whoa.

All right, Bob, round there, mate.

Hey, nice car, Grandpa.

Bit of a step down for you, isn't it, Doc?

Harold, what are you up to?

Wendouree branch of the RSL.

The boy's even taken time off to have a drink with us.

Good to see you following doctor's orders then.

You look like you could do with a drink yourself.

You joining us?

Servicemen always welcome. Come and have a nice cold beer.

-Here we go.

-Watch out, Doc.

Oh, thank you, Steven.

Lemonade?

I dunno about you blokes, but I'm pretty embarrassed right now.

Yes, well, I...I'm on call.

I wondered what he was doing with that horse and cart.

Well, as a matter of fact, that's old Sid's gig.

I'm guessing this is one of his watering holes.

One of them.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Tell me, Harold, when did you last see him?

Last week, I reckon, why?

He died a couple of days ago, the police are investigating.

-Jesus.

-Yes.

What happened?

We don't know yet.

But if the cops are involved?

I heard he was at Fromelles.

Yes, that's right.

Bloody terrible, isn't it?

He survives the war and cops it back home in Ballarat.

To old soldiers.

Hear, hear. Stevie. Good on you, Harold.

(There's a boy.)

You just took it, did you?

I had a feeling about the bloody thing.

No, that cart was material evidence.

Come on, Lawson, at least it led us somewhere.

You're not a copper.

So, it wasn't your call.

Now, you pull your head in.

Forgive me.

Sid had a regular route he'd follow, I just let the horse have its head.

What was he doing here?

Well, scrap metal. Helping himself, I think.

Is this his blood?

I don't think so.

Sid had one bullet wound and that bullet was still in his skull.

This...

..this was used on someone else.

What's that, a 38?

Looks like it, eh?

Sir.

Have a look.

Bullet mark.

Must've nicked at the edge.

Drag marks here...

..and blood.

Here...and here.

Sid fell somewhere here, they dragged the body this way.

What else have you found?

Nothing.

I just feel a little crook.

HE WHEEZES

Yes?

I was going to compliment you on your lovely notice for Sid Bartel

but I'm having second thoughts.

Jean, I'm sorry.

You all right?

Nothing a cup of tea wouldn't cure.

You know we found traces of Sid's blood

outside an old run-down shed out past the highway.

There was also blood on the floor inside - someone else's.

-Another body?

-Yes.

-Well, where is it?

-We don't know.

Miriam Tucker's burying her husband this afternoon.

Just the one husband, is it?

Apparently.

It is the same funeral home, but...

well, that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

Is she Catholic?

Why on Earth would that be important?

Would there have been a viewing?

-Was the coffin open?

-No, she's Anglican.

Get Lawson on the phone, tell him to meet me there.

Do it, please, Jean.

Miss Callow.

-Is Mrs Tucker here?

-No.

Right, I need you to open this coffin.

Doctor, this is unforgivable.

Two men are dead, we've only found one body.

Now, please, I need you to open this coffin.

You have no business coming here.

But I do.

Miss Callow,

we're in the middle of conducting a missing persons investigation.

Would you be so kind as to open the lid on this coffin?

I know it's a long shot.

-Satisfied?

-I am sorry.

Thank you, Miss Callow.

Who do you think you are?

You know there are people just waiting for you to stuff up

and you pull a stunt like this?

-Matthew...

-Shut up.

I don't know what the hell's wrong with you

but you better sort it out

before you even think about resuming your duties.

-Is that clear?

-Yes.

KNOCK AT DOOR Lucien?

Just give me a moment, would you, Jean, please?

Yes?

-Dinner's in a quarter of an hour.

-Good. Thank you.

Ah, Dr McKenzie rang from the hospital.

Apparently he's concerned about my blood tests.

My liver function's down.

Well, I haven't had any blood tests lately.

-Any idea what he's talking about?

-No.

Jean, how well do you know Miriam Tucker?

-Not that well, why?

-We may have to send flowers.

-You didn't go...

-Yes, I did, do you think we could...?

Yes, I think that's the least we could do.

Thank you.

Quarter of an hour.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you.

JEAN SIGHS

Come on, Mattie.

OK, what's going on?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Is he drinking?

No. I keep an eye on the levels of his bottles

and he's not drinking at all.

-Well, what about the club?

-He hasn't been to the club in weeks.

-He seems to be...

-Rather more impossible than usual?

-Yes.

-Matthew Lawson said the same thing.

In fact...

Lucien!

What did the Superintendent say?

He said to keep an eye on him.

CAR APPROACHES

Glad to see you've taken my advice.

What's the thinking here?

Well...we're looking for a second victim,

it's reasonable to assume the body came through the funeral home.

Maybe it didn't.

Of course, that is a possibility.

Say you're right.

Why this one here?

Look...we checked a coffin today, didn't we?

Nothing.

Now, if the body wasn't disposed of after Sid's was,

then it must have been before.

And this...

this was the only other non-Catholic funeral

in the past two weeks.

Where are you going?

Got another shovel in the car.

Oh!

Give us a hand.

Thank you...Matthew.

THEY PANT

It's funny, isn't it?

What's that?

That sooner or later, one way or another, we all end up here.

LUCIEN WINCES

You all right there?

Oh...I'd kill for a drink.

What if there's only one body?

We cover it up.

Yeah. Yeah, we cover it up.

THUDS

Oh!

It's 3:00 in the morning.

And you started without me.

Who is he?

Andrew Morgan, 28.

Otherwise known as Handy Andy.

That's almost funny.

Some contusions to the face, the arms.

-What about the scratches?

-Fingernails, most likely.

Yes, there's been a fight.

Fairly desperate, I'd say.

Ligature marks around the wrists,

the ones we saw around the ankles,

suggest he was bound pre-mortem.

Cause of death - single shot to the back of the head, 38.

-Like Bartel?

-Well, not quite.

-Minimal damage to the vertebrae...

-Yes.

..which means full flexion of the neck at the time of death.

Sid was shot as he was running away.

This poor chap was kneeling, head bowed,

with hands and wrists bound.

The gunman would have been standing over him

and the bullet has passed right through the skull.

Like an execution?

His blood type matches the blood we found in the shed.

What?

Andrew Morgan, long record. General thug for hire.

Anti-union and intimidation,

usually accompanied by his brother, Victor.

So?

Morgan went missing four days ago, so did Victor.

He hasn't been found yet.

I see.

So we might be looking for one more body.

Hmm.

I'll leave you to it.

Good night.

No biting my head off tonight.

Um...

would you mind terribly doing me a favour?

Could you conduct some bloods for me?

Of course. What am I looking for?

Not for him.

Morning. I didn't wake you, did I?

A little difficult to sleep, all things considered.

What happened?

Well, we found the body, now we're looking for another one.

Cup of tea?

-I don't think Sid was meant to die.

-Why do you say that?

Well, he was running away.

This shed's part of an old abandoned property,

he was stealing from it.

Oh, and someone finally caught him?

But if it's abandoned, it doesn't belong to anyone, does it?

So why would someone shoot him

for stealing something that doesn't belong to anyone anymore?

What about the man with the, um...

Oh, the chap with the finger missing, yes.

Whoever he was...

they took him to that shed to kill him.

Imagine it.

Ah, it's just awful.

Adrenaline flooding the system.

Probably hyperventilating by that point.

Fight or flight.

Of course, he could do neither, just...

just awful.

And of course maybe, maybe that's what Sid saw,

someone being murdered.

And he tried to run.

Didn't get very far.

It makes sense, doesn't it?

Mmm! Did I tell you...

I found a new home for Sid's horse.

-Oh!

-Mm! Local family, with children.

Which is ironic, really.

Why ironic?

Well, when I was a child, I threw crackers at Sid's horse.

Different animal back then, of course, but...

Oh, I thought Sid was going to give me such a thrashing.

And?

He sat me down...

and he carved a little wooden horse.

And he gave it to me.

Oh, I've never felt so ashamed.

Anyhow, I'm going to see if I can get some sleep.

Good night, you two.

BELL TOLLS

-Hey, Lyd.

-Can't you see we're busy?

I got deliveries.

Not now, for God's sake. Half an hour.

Morning. Lawson, um, I was wondering,

how do the Callows fit in with the Morgans?

Well, Martin and Lydia Callow never met the Morgans.

Never heard of them.

They don't know how this could possibly have happened.

And you believe them?

-Oh, remains to be seen.

-Ah, right.

Only two sets of keys, father and daughter,

and no sign of forced entry.

I see. Well...

Anything else you need?

No, we'll be right.

Very good.

Sir?

You know Melbourne sent me up here to keep an eye on things?

I did know that.

Well, they're reining in most of the larger country stations

but they've got their eye on Ballarat in particular.

And they've heard the Doctor's out of control.

Hm. Wonder who they heard that from?

So, what do you reckon?

Well, I reckon he's a liability.

I reckon you think so too.

Would you have dug up a grave in the middle of the night?

-No.

-Me neither.

Most of the time, he's helping me do my job

so it's just a question of managing him.

Same as you.

Got everything?

-Think so.

-Let's go.

These premises will remain locked until further notice

and you will report daily down at the station

while the investigation is ongoing.

Is that understood?

HE SIGHS

-Doc.

-Steven.

-You after a lift?

-No. No, no, no. I'm fine.

But I would like to know how long you've had a key to the storeroom.

I don't.

-Really?

-Yes.

Then you won't mind if I take a look at those keys of yours.

It's a busy day, Doc. I should head...

-Steven, please, show me your keys.

-Dunno what you're talking about.

You killed those men and used your truck to bring the bodies here.

-You leave it alone.

-Then you put them in the coffins.

-So just show me your keys...

-I said leave it alone!

HE GROANS

TYRES SCREECH

Steven!

Steven!

HE COUGHS

Charlie, where's Lawson?

Town Hall.

They're asking questions about you.

I need to talk with him.

You are not going up there.

-Charlie.

-Doc. Doc!

You really don't want to go around making a nuisance of yourself

right now.

Lydia Callow is having a fling with Steven Morris.

-Who?

-The delivery driver.

He has a key to the storeroom where the bodies are kept.

He may well be that...unidentified set of prints you found.

There's only supposed to be two sets of keys.

That's right.

And he was very violent with me when I confronted him.

You what?

I confronted him, he threatened me and then he drove away.

-Oh, brilliant.

-What?

Well, you've given him a chance to destroy all the evidence.

Well, no-one else was asking him anything, Charlie.

I'll get the boss, tell him what happened.

-You sit in that chair.

-No.

You leave this room and I'm charging you

with interfering with a police investigation.

-Is that clear?

-It'll never stick, Charlie.

I'm not doing this for your benefit.

METALLIC CLUNK

Victor.

Victor Morgan, can you hear me?

Don't be alarmed, I'm a doctor. Let's get you out of here.

What have they done to you?

Throw an arm over. All right.

Harold Morris.

And I'm guessing that's your ex-service 38.

You don't sound surprised, Doc.

Well, the bottles of home-distilled whiskey down there gave it away.

So what do you reckon?

Mmm. Could do with a little more ageing.

VICTOR CHUCKLES

Funny bloke.

Always liked that about you.

Ah, stay there.

Oh, come on, Harold.

You don't want to do this.

-Do you have a better idea?

-Look, I...

I figure you've had it in for the Morgan brothers for quite some time.

No. Never met them before.

I had some dealings with their old man though,

when I was working for the union.

He ended up with his legs broken.

My guess is...

the boys got old enough

and decided to square things up.

That right, son?

They came looking for me.

-But I got the drop on them.

-I see.

And that brought on the heart trouble.

Never used to worry me before.

Righto...time's up.

No hard feelings, Doc.

-Oh!

-GUNSHOT

Oh...

now this is interesting.

You look like you've used one of those before.

Once or twice.

On the floor, Harold, hands on your head.

I can't do that, Doc.

You know, it's one thing to shoot someone in the middle of battle,

but it's another thing to do it cold.

And to someone you know, too.

Most blokes don't have it in them. but that's all right, you know.

You're a doctor. You spend most of your life fixing blokes like me.

Don't feel bad if you don't want to shoot me.

And you really don't want to shoot me, do you, Doc?

-Stop.

-So just hand it back...

Stop.

..and you've got nothing to worry about.

Come on, Doc.

GUNSHOT

How'd you first meet the Morgans?

I opened the front door and those two brothers were there

and they both had coshes.

They'd come for Dad.

So what happened?

They walked me into the living room.

Dad must have heard something, he got the first one with a golf club,

fought with the other, and it got nasty.

Then I dropped the bloke and that's, ah...

when Dad's heart played up.

So you took your father to the hospital?

No. He said that there was work to do.

I put the brothers in the truck, took them to that shed,

and Dad had, ah...

he'd just shot the first one when that old bloke appeared.

Sidney Bartel.

Yes.

He must've seen everything, so Dad did what he had to.

Ah, we buried Andy Morgan first

and then had to wait a couple of days to get rid of old Sid.

And what about Victor Morgan?

There was another Anglican funeral in three days' time.

Most of the homicides I've seen, people just dig a big hole.

Weren't you taking a risk with coffins?

Have you ever dug a grave before?

Me neither.

But I've dug some bloody big holes and it's hard work.

Anyway, ah, I'd checked the ledger in the storeroom

and that old bird was supposed to be cremated.

And we'd already gotten rid of the first one.

Your girlfriend reckons it was a book-keeping error.

'The old man's going to be pretty disappointed.'

Ah.

Here he is.

How's the leg?

Bloody killing me.

I guess the boy's telling them everything?

He is.

You know, you surprised me back there.

I just didn't see it coming.

You were going to kill me, weren't you?

I saw a fair bit of action when I was in New Guinea.

Didn't worry me.

Not like most blokes.

Actually discovered I was quite good at it.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Mr Morris? Is there anything else that...?

No, thanks, love. All good, thank you.

I was lucky when I came back home.

The unions needed someone who didn't get squeamish

and the work suited me.

But it's not for everyone.

You ever have to kill a bloke, Doc?

-Then we've got more in common than I thought.

-No.

You and I...

we have nothing in common.

Whatever happened up in New Guinea, you had a choice when you came back.

You didn't have to do all this.

Sermon over, Doc?

Sid Bartel was at Fromelles.

The worst single day in a battle Australia's ever seen.

He had more reason than any of us to go bad, and he didn't.

And you shot him in the back.

Hey, Doc.

You might as well drink the scotch I left down in that basement.

Don't reckon I'll be getting back to it.

You're sure?

No, I asked the lab to send back the wrong results.

You see, this is why you should never mix with living patients.

-I thought you'd be glad.

-I am. Of course I am.

It's...

It's a relief. It's just hepatitis.

You thought it was cirrhosis of the liver, didn't you?

Liver enzymes raised, bilirubin high,

symptoms comparable with the onset of influenza.

Irritability?

I thought I was dying.

It's fairly simple to diagnose.

What about these tremors? Look.

Getting older.

Difficulty controlling my temper?

You're right. They're not usual symptoms.

Hmmm.

Have you made any major changes lately?

Diet? Routine?

Well...well, I stopped drinking.

What?

That's actually quite funny.

Considering you misdiagnosed yourself.

You're right, it is, rather. Thank you, Alice.

You'll need to stay off alcohol until you're better.

HE SIGHS

Do you think you can do that?

Jean? Time to break out the whiskey.

Oh? What's the occasion?

Well, I've just been chatting with Dr Harvey and, um...

Ah, yes - and apparently...

apparently, according to the good doctor...

Oh!

..I have hepatitis.

Right. Is that such a good idea then?

You drink it for me.

Please, Jean.

You do worry me.

Ah, ah, ah. You sip it.

And you savour it.

That is appalling.

I have no idea how you can drink that.

Ah, ah, ah!

Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.

How are you feeling?

Honestly?

Just glad to be alive.

Do you still require me as your next of kin?

For your funeral?

Well, if that's still acceptable?

Yes, I suppose it is.