Conscience "Connie" Hall személy

Jazz spent a chunk of the day fantasizing ways to kill his grandmother, plotting them and planning them in the most excruciating, gruesome detail his imagination would allow. It turned out his imagination allowed quite a bit. He spent the rest of the day convincing himself — over and over — not to do it. She was goofy and childlike so much of the time that sometimes it was easy to forget that her madness had a cunning dimension to it, too. She knew Jazz’s weaknesses. She knew which buttons to push. And when the right synapses fired in the wrong order, she did it cruelly. Gleefully. By the time Connie was free for the day, his grandmother had shifted into a young girl’s persona, asking Jazz (whom she thought to be a priest of some sort, apparently) with a slight lisp if she could have some pudding, since she’d been such a good girl and said all her Hail Marys. Jazz resisted the urge to throttle her. There was some yogurt in the fridge and it only took him a couple of minutes to convince her that it was actually pudding.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR