by Debra Webb
The better question was why hadn’t he told his partner?
Patton had been at the hospital welcoming his new daughter into the world. Or maybe Hitch and his partner hadn’t bonded closely enough for Hitch to share his obsession with all things electronic.
The idea that something was wrong with the whole scenario kept nagging at her.
Alex drove, her destination uncertain. Hopefully Shannon would call soon with an exact location. No point in checking out the crash site where Hitch’s car had been found, the cops had already been over it and the car was in the hands of forensics.
There was just one thing she could do right now.
Go to the morgue.
The old guy who’d blown off half his head had two eyes—or at least he had before he opted to discharge a .45 into his skull. Most folks who chose contacts over eyeglasses wore two. Maybe there was still one attached to the intact eye.
Anticipation fired through her. Only one way to find out.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the cops to do their job. She did, usually. But she’d been doing this job long enough to know she didn’t have anything to shift their attention, to make them look beyond the obvious. Cops operated under the rule of probable cause and their investigations were based on hard evidence, not speculation. Unless something at the scene of Hitch’s crash looked suspicious or some foul play involving his car was discovered, the case would be ruled accidental. Case closed.
Hitch had been a damned good cop. Not only was he good at his job, he truly cared. That was precisely why he’d chosen to run the contact lens through some preliminary analysis when any other cop would probably have dismissed it. There really wasn’t any reason to believe the contact lens was anything relevant. Hitch suspected it might be electronic, but to her it was just weird looking. But, because the lens was so unusual and Hitch had a thing for all things techno, he had wanted to be sure. That was just the kind of cop he was. Thorough. Dedicated. Maybe even a little hopeful that he’d be the detective who busted some big spy ring.
Damn she was going to miss that guy.
The Morgue Bureau, aka the medical examiner’s office, was part of an imposing three building complex nestled amid a couple of lushly landscaped acres on the perimeter of the University of Miami Medical School Center. Tropical trees and shrubs highlighted the meticulously cared for landscape. Inside, the elegant furnishings, potted palms, soft lighting, and smiling receptionist would almost make one think of a ritzy resort hotel. At least until you read the mission statement above the front desk:
To provide accurate, timely, dignified, compassionate and professional death investigative services for the citizens of Miami-Dade County.
That stopped any warm, fuzzy feelings dead in their tracks.
As far as Alex was concerned, the luxurious details were wasted on most visitors to the Joseph H. Davis Center for Forensics Pathology considering they were dead. But hey, the place looked great. Didn’t even smell like a morgue. Special electronic air filters erased the unmistakable odors of formaldehyde and decomposing bodies.
Alex waved to the receptionist but didn’t bother checking in. She’d visited enough times to know her way around and headed straight for the work area of a friend, Cody Feldman, an evidence courier. If he wasn’t in she’d just have to try her luck with an assistant medical examiner who had been a good friend of Hitch. Cody would be far easier to... coax into doing what she wanted. He had a thing for Alex.
A smile stretched across her lips as she recalled the last time they’d gone out. It had been a Friday night. Dinner and a movie had been on the agenda but they’d never made it out of her house.
What could she say? Cody was cute. He’d been fun. Although they hadn’t dated in a while, she and Cody were still friends. She ran into him now and again since they frequented the same nightspots. It was good to have friends in all kinds of places. It was also good to know how to use those connections to one’s advantage when the need arose. She felt certain Hitch would appreciate her efforts.
Alex poked her head through the open door to his tiny office. “Hey, Cody.” At least someone had an office smaller than hers.
He glanced up from his computer and did a double take. “Alex.” A couple of medical journals and an empty foam cup hit the floor as he shot up out of his chair. “What’re you doing here?” He blushed. “I mean...”
Her smile made the transition into a full-blown grin. The guy was adorable when he was all embarrassed and looking flustered. Only a man under the age of twenty-five could still do that and look so sweet. “Good to see you, too.”
He pushed his desk chair toward her. “Have a seat.” Glancing around his cluttered space he couldn’t seem to decide what to say next. Inspiration belatedly struck. “You want some coffee? Nancy just made a fresh pot.” He hitched his thumb toward the end of the hall where the lounge could be found. “She makes the best.” He licked his lips and blinked as if he’d abruptly drawn a big old blank.
Alex shook her head. “No thanks. I’m good.” She moved a little farther into his territory, pushing the chair out of her way as she went “I need to ask a favor,” she offered humbly.
He opened his arms wide. “Sure. Anything.’’
His face had gone from pink to red. Alex was pretty sure he’d just remembered one night in particular when she’d made him beg for mercy. That was the thing about being a mature woman and dating a younger guy. They were so easily entertained.
Alex took a moment to appreciate her friend’s casually sexy appearance. His trousers were navy, one of her favorite colors. His shirt was striped in a paler blue, yellow, and green. The shirttail was untucked on one side. Not a fashion statement, simply a result of his slightly nerdish predisposition. The brown loafers were polished. His face was clean-shaven. His dark hair was tousled and his gray eyes were clear and bright.
“You got a stiff last night—”
His eyes suddenly widened and his face paled as if he’d been caught doing something that would get him seriously grounded,
Alex laughed softly. “A dead guy.” She’d been hanging around with too many cops and was picking up all their slang.
“Oh.” The pink started to creep up from his collar again. “We got five last night.”
She nodded. “Detective Louis Hitch worked this case. Caucasian, in his late sixties or early seventies, took a .45 to his head.”
“Yeah.” Recognition flared in his expression. “I imagine that was a real mess.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never understand why these guys don’t consider the mess they’re going to leave when they opt for the bullet to the head route.”
Cody was nodding in agreement.
“You think it’d be a problem if I took a look at the body?”
A flicker of hesitation had her hastily adding, “The guy doesn’t have any family. And the cops have pretty much closed the case. There’s just something I’m curious about related to the cleanup.”
Still looking a little unsure, he said, “He’s scheduled for the full treatment tomorrow morning. Letting you look at him wouldn’t really be—”
“I swear I won’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. I just need to check one little thing.” She held her breath, then quickly added in hopes of alleviating any final reservations he might have, “It’s not like I haven’t already seen him. He was still at the scene when I arrived for the cleanup.” The full treatment was a no holds barred complete autopsy. Everyone got the full treatment unless the family requested otherwise.
He checked his watch. “I don’t guess there’d be any harm. Like you said you’ve already seen him.” He shrugged. “Been in the same room with him.” Their eyes locked. “Just let me make sure the cooler is…ah… clear.”
“I really appreciate it.” She gave him her best you’re-my-hero look of gratitude.
“I’ll be back in thirty seconds,” he promised as he backed out of his office.
She couldn’t be certain whe
ther he backed out because he was afraid she would follow him or if he feared she’d disappear before he returned. A quick peek out the door confirmed her conclusion that he would probably run the whole distance to the cooler.
Leaning against the doorframe to watch for his return she couldn’t help thinking that men were like puppies. She adored them, but she didn’t want to have to clean up after one on a regular basis. She liked her independence.
True to his word, Cody was back in about half a minute. “This way.”
Alex let him lead the way though she knew the route. Cody checked the log sheet and headed for the drawer where Charlie Crane awaited two things, an autopsy and then for the State to claim his body since there was no next of kin. En route her guide pointed to a box of latex gloves stationed on a counter. Alex had them in place before Cody had rested his hand on the pull of the cooler drawer.
With one last fleeting look at the door, he lugged the drawer open. As if having second thoughts, he hesitated before lowering the zipper on the body bag. “Make it quick, okay?”
“I will.”
He opened the bag that helped to keep the body fresh while in a refrigerated state.
With the old guy’s upper torso and what was left of his head fully exposed to her, Cody backed away. “I’ll keep watch outside.”
She nodded and he left her to her business.
It wasn’t that Alex got any kind of thrill out of touching a dead guy, but this had to be done. Working quickly, she first surveyed what was left of his head. His body was nude so anything he’d had in his pockets would be beyond her reach at this point. It would take an act of congress or proof of kinship to get her hands on his personal effects.
The right eye remained intact and exactly where it should be in its socket.
“Okay, Charlie,” she murmured. “Let’s have a look.”
Gingerly, she lifted the eyelid and surveyed the eyeball. She shuddered, couldn’t help herself. The body changed drastically after twenty-four hours without blood flowing through the veins. The skin looked gray with the slightest marbling effect deep beneath the surface. The eyes were cloudy, the pupils fully dilated. The flesh was cold—that was the worst. Nothing smelled as creepy as chilled flesh. Her stomach knotted.
Kicking aside her squeamishness, she touched the eyeball, sliding the pad of her gloved finger over it. Nothing. Frowning, she checked again just to be certain. If he’d been wearing a second lens, it was gone now.
“Damn it.”
She zipped the bag carefully and closed the drawer. For a moment, she just stood there feeling sad for him. No one should die alone.
Hitch had died alone.
The idea that she might very well die that way made her stomach spasm all over again. Of course there was always the chance her mother would outlive her. But what if she didn’t?
Would she end up in the morgue with no family to claim her?
Nah. Shannon would claim her and see that she got a proper funeral. At least as long as she was still breathing.
Despite her chosen career, this was the first time Alex could recall consciously considering what would happen to her when she died. Other than the usual decomposition, that is.
This whole thing with Hitch had really shaken her up.
Alex peeled off the gloves and disposed of them as she crossed the room. She opened the door and Cody whipped around with a start.
“Finished?” He tried to look calm and composed but he didn’t fool her. He’d been sweating every second of the three or four minutes she’d been in there.
“Yeah. Thanks, man, I owe you.”
Between that announcement and the whoosh of the door closing behind her, he relaxed. He looked downright ready to melt into a puddle of equal parts need and relief.
“We could have dinner,” he suggested tentatively.
Alex hooked her arm in his and headed toward his office. “We could.”
“Name the night.” He was feeling cockier now, grinning like a kid looking forward to Christmas.
Oh, yes, easily entertained.
She went on tiptoe and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you.”
Giving him a show he wouldn’t soon forget, she strutted away. She didn’t have to look back to know he’d enjoyed every second of it.
Men were so predictable.
God love ‘em.
The driveway was empty when Alex arrived at the house Charlie Crane had called home until he’d elected to end his existence. She scanned the neighborhood as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves. At half past ten in the morning most folks were either at work or on the beach. The morning was for too glorious to spend cooped up inside unless you were physically unable to get out and around.
Alex was counting on the idea that the landlord hadn’t gotten around to calling anyone to take care of the broken lock on Charlie’s apartment after the first cops on the scene had kicked in the door. And she was right. The door opened with a simple twist of the knob. The splintered wood on the interior side of the casing confirmed her assumption.
After pushing the door shut behind her, she flipped on the overhead lights. The front door opened into the nondescript living room with its renter’s white walls and builder’s grade carpeting in the ever-popular sand color. A hall beyond the living room took her deeper into the house. She flipped on more lights as she went. Despite the sun shining outside the heavy blinds left the place in shadows. The rest of the house was comprised of a kitchen, bathroom, and three bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a den, complete with wood paneling.
She searched the den first. She doubted she’d missed anything but since she was here, she might as well take a second look. Minutes later she had checked each drawer, shelf and niche. Magazines, papers, and pens were all she found.
Before moving on to the bathroom and bedrooms, she took a moment to browse through the papers. She didn’t really expect to find anything. The likelihood of her recognizing something that shouldn’t be here was pretty low. Might as well check it out.
Utility receipts. Rent receipts. Not much else to speak of outside the usual credit card invitations.
The bathroom offered no better. Mouthwash, toothpaste, deodorant. No prescription medications, not even a bottle of aspirin.
The idea of a man who’d blown off the better portion of his head not having a bottle of aspirin in the house gave her pause. Everyone got headaches. She took a mental step back and looked at the room again.
This time she nailed what felt wrong.
The soap rest in the shower-tub combination was clean. No soap residue, nothing. She dragged the shower curtain back to be sure she hadn’t missed a bottle of liquid body wash. Not even a ring around the tub. No soap scum whatsoever.
Anticipation buzzing, she checked under the sink next. Clean as a whistle.
The narrow linen closet next to the vanity was stocked with half a dozen or so towels and a similar number of washcloths. All in white. She picked them up one at a time and sniffed, felt the texture of the terry cloth. Unused. Unwashed.
Her pulse raced as she moved to the bedrooms. Clothes hung in the closet. All new. No price tags, but she could tell. The fabrics had never been worn much less laundered.
The dresser drawers were the same. Nice, neatly stored, new underclothes, including socks. She went to the kitchen next. The cabinets were well stocked with a variety of canned goods, dishes, and cookware. All were spotless and mirror shiny.
The fridge was stocked, as well. None of the goods inside had expired or been opened. Not the milk, not the cheese and bologna. Not a single item.
Near the rear entrance was a set of bi-fold louvered doors that concealed the place where a washer and dryer would be. Dust was the only thing she discovered there. No detergent. No cleaning supplies for taking care of the rest of the house.
The second bedroom was as devoid of signs of occupancy as the laundry closet had been. According to the landlord Charlie Crane had rented this place one ye
ar ago. Why hadn’t he lived here? Why the fresh foods in the fridge?
That creepy sensation danced up her spine again. She shook it off and headed back to the den, the only place where she’d found anything that wasn’t practically sterile.
She got out all the receipts and studied them. They told her nothing. None had a signature. The labels on the magazines sported his name and address but not one appeared to have been perused. No wrinkled or dog-eared pages.
This time she took the drawers out of the desk and checked the bottoms the way she’d seen it done on TV. Unlike the protagonists in the cop shows, she came up empty-handed.
She sat back on her haunches, surrounded by the drawers she’d dragged from the desk. What was the deal with this guy? This was weird. Just like the damned contact lens he’d been wearing.
The Story of My Life shattered the silence and her heart surged into her throat.
“Damn.” She caught her breath and reached into her pants pocket for her phone. Damn thing about gave her a heart attack.
“I’ve got that address for you.”
Shannon. Alex had almost forgotten. She drew in a deep, calming breath. “Great.”
The address wasn’t in the swanky historic district of Morningside but it was no shabby location, either.
“Thanks, Shannon. I’m headed that way.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Alex finished shoving the last of the drawers back into place, holding the phone with her shoulder. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She ended the call and tucked her phone back into her pocket before her friend could argue. Shannon knew her too well. She would have kept asking questions until she had some answers. Alex didn’t have any right answers yet. Maybe there weren’t any.
But she intended to find out.
Something about this old guy’s death got Hitch killed. The idea that her turning that contact lens over to her friend might have been the reason he was dead, wouldn’t be banished from her mind.