Forgotten Place (22 page)

"If this is a bad time for me to lurk, I can
go with Orion downstairs," I announced after five minutes of her
barely audible tirade.

"Don't go.  I'll be done bitching in a
minute.  Just as soon as I figure out how the hell Riley Storm
determined this man died of any causes natural or otherwise."

"Am I missing something?"

She looked up at me.  "Oh.  Well,
as you can see, I've cut away his clothes in anticipation of
popping open the old Y incision, only to discover that there isn't
one.  Come over here and take a look at this."

"Must I?"  My nose wrinkled.

"God help me if I do anything to kill your
appetite.  Stay put.  I'll tell you what I see. 
Riley didn't do an internal examination of this man's body. 
He wasn't properly prepared for burial.  I called Crevan a
little while before the two of you showed up, and he's planning to
call on the Widow McNamara to find out which funeral home allegedly
prepared him for burial."

"When you say not properly prepared, you
mean what exactly?"  I scooted off the counter and let
curiosity override queasiness.

"Ordinarily when someone dies, the vital
organs are removed.  The process of putrefaction made this man
rot from the inside out, or should have, but he's intact. 
It's very bizarre."

"I don't understand."

"Think ancient Egyptian mummification,
Helen.  They basically did the same thing we do now, only they
kept the organs in jars and whatnot for the afterlife." She paused
briefly before mumbling, "Jesus Christ and General
Jackson."

"What now?"

"See this hole in his arm?  Two of them
actually."

"Yeah.  What is it?  Bug
activity?"

She chuckled.  "I love it when you lay
people try to identify shit you don't understand.  Those are
access marks into the brachial artery and vein, Helen.  It's
the one bit of evidence present on this man's body that I expected
to find."

"Because of…?"

"Embalming fluid.  One line pumps out
blood, the other infuses solution that slows down
decomposition."

"Creepy ritual, but I recall the reason why
it was done in antiquity at least.  They believed that kings
and others important enough for the funerary ritual would need
their preserved bodies in the next life."

Maya peered over her magnification
glasses.  "Ever hear of the resurrection of the saints? 
Believe me, our burial rituals and the superstitions behind them
aren't all that dissimilar.  This is what baffles me.  If
McNamara here was embalmed, why didn't anybody bother to take out
the mushy wet guts that would've bloated him up like a beached
whale before they bothered to inject solution to prevent rapid
decomposition?  And how on earth could Riley Storm declare
that McNamara died from cardiac failure when he didn't crack his
chest or look at his heart?"

"Let's back up for a minute.  If his
organs were left inside, how will that affect your ability to
determine his cause of death?"

"On a corpse this old?  I'm looking at
a tough proposition anyway, Helen, unless I find evidence that he
was shot or bashed in the head.  I won't have blood, I'll have
solvents like formaldehyde and methanol among others."

"What about his tissues?  If he was
poisoned, can't you test for it in whatever organs are left? 
We'd be looking at something that mimics heart attack."

"If you believe Riley Storm.  Or the
man who allegedly found poor McNamara and performed CPR until the
paramedics arrived."

"That's right.  Briscoe told me that
Jerry Lowe found the chief collapsed in his office."

"So says the report."

"I wonder if the hospital still has his
medical record on file somewhere," I said.  "Surely that could
help fill in a blank or two."

"Seven years," she said.  "And that's
about the longest that any hospital would retain such
records.  Sixteen would be an unbelievable stroke of good
fortune."

"I wonder which hospital I should
call.  Maybe Orion would know."

"Speaking of which, you don't seem to be
spitting blood at the mention of his name this morning.  Is
that a good sign that things are finally getting back to normal
with the two of you?"

"This is as normal as it gets, Maya. 
My days here are still numbered.  It's good to know that I'll
have friends in Darkwater Bay when that day has come and gone."

"Friends, huh?  He still looks pretty
smitten to me."

"Wrong.  Johnny, to coin a phrase I
hate, has moved on.  He's seeing somebody else, so you see,
his concern for me is in the true spirit of friendship."

"When has he had time to start dating?"

I shrugged.  "He says she's the one
running the security business.  Probably someone he's known
and trusted for a very long time.  Speaking of relationships,
are you going with Ken to the party Saturday night?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can meet her then.  She's
his date."

"Don't tell me you're not going,
Helen.  You have to be there."

"I'm going with Zack Carpenter."

"Mistake," she muttered.  "For both of
you."

"Will you call if the autopsy shows up
another bizarre clue?  Orion and I are heading to Central
Division for Chief Weber's press conference.  I don't think we
have anything else on the agenda this morning – except for snacks
and a nap, I'm sure."

She waved me out of the room. 
"Go.  I'll be in touch."

Crevan was with Johnny outside the autopsy
bay.

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here this
morning, Crevan.  Are you coming downtown for the press
conference too?"

"Thinking about it," he said.  "I
talked to Mrs. McNamara this morning, Helen.  I was just about
to tell Johnny about the conversation.  Do we have time, or is
the word from above approaching too fast for official
business?"

Johnny glanced at his watch.  "Follow
us down there.  We'll chat after Weber does his thing. 
Sound good to you?"

On the way to the press conference, Johnny
talked about Forsythe.  "Ken remembered the crime scene when
David was murdered far better than I did," he said.  "David
was shot in the back of the head with a forty caliber pistol. 
They recovered one bullet casing from the scene, no prints. 
He figured Southerby wore gloves when he ransacked the office
because there wasn't a print to be found that didn't belong to
David or his coworkers."

"How much time elapsed between finding
Ireland's body and the discovery that his office had been
searched?"

"Not long, forty-five minutes maybe."

"Did someone report the gunshot?"

"Yeah, it happened right between central and
the courthouse, Doc."

"Maybe Southerby tore through the office
like a madman because he knew he didn't have much time for a
careful search after he killed Ireland."

"I thought the same thing.  It struck
me a bit odd, Doc."

"Like if the goal was finding something in
his office, why not break in and search first?  And if the
objective was killing Ireland, why bother with the office?"

"I concluded that whatever David knew sealed
his fate on earth, but that Datello couldn't risk someone stumbling
onto any record he might've left behind."

"We're still making the assumption that
Datello hired Southerby," I said.  "And as sure as I am that
he was associated with Marcos, I won't feel comfortable until David
can confirm that data for me."

"Can you hold off on calling Levine until
after we hear what Weber has to say and talk to Crevan?"

"Sure," I said.  "It's not like
Southerby is still a threat.  Datello isn't going anywhere
either."

"Not until Friday at least."

"Where is he going Friday?" 

Johnny glanced at me and grinned.  "You
didn't think he'd honestly stick around town for our annual bash in
one of his banquet halls, did you?  Oh no, it's family
tradition, at least since he met and married his wife, to pack up
the entire clan and jet off to Hawaii for two weeks.  He'll be
back after New Year's."

"Provided we don't have a warrant for his
arrest before then."

"I love your optimism, Doc.  We'll have
a little breathing room once he leaves town.  At least we
won't have to be quite so covert about what we're doing."

"Have you thought about my suggestion this
morning?"  When we stopped by to visit Journey and Devlin, the
visit was cut short by Journey's fear of her impending hospital
discharge.  "I've got plenty of space for her, Johnny."

"I don't know how I feel about having
someone with a bull's-eye on her back living under the same roof as
a woman who also seems to have a target between her eyes.  You
do realize that Lowe tried to have you killed twice, and Kim
Jackson almost got the job done."

"I haven't forgotten, Johnny.  That
doesn't mean my house isn't completely secure now.  Nor does
it erase the fact that I've got a cop living under my roof, albeit
on calorie counting patrol.  If you're that worried about it,
station plainclothes officers at the house.  The more the
merrier."

His eyes twinkled when he glanced at
me.  "Calorie cop?"

It was the equivalent of an accord, and I
realized how such rational discussions made Johnny happier than
anything I'd seen from him since before I was shot. 

He pulled into the parking garage between
central and the courthouse, the same one where David Ireland died,
and probably a multitude of other crimes during the tenure of Jerry
Lowe and the influence we suspected that Danny Datello
wielded. 

The crowd gathered at the front steps of
Central Division included more than members of the press.  I
clutched Johnny's arm.  "This can't have been what Donald had
in mind when he called for a press conference," I spoke low.

Johnny's head jerked to the left back of the
crowd.  My eyes followed.

"Well, isn't that interesting?  He's
looking well."

Datello glanced in our direction.  His
eyes made a slow perusal before a grin spread across his
face.  He mocked us with a salute.

"That son of a –"

"Helen, easy," one arm curled around my back
to restrain the lunge Johnny felt coming.

I watched Datello measure the gesture,
determine it meant something else altogether.  His face
hardened to stone.  Suddenly his interest at the impromptu
announcement shifted from whatever Don had to say to what Orion and
I were doing.

"Play along," I murmured. 

"What?"

I pressed close to Johnny's body and let the
fingers of my right hand trail down his chest.  "He never knew
about us, did he?"

Johnny's chest expanded and froze. 
"What're you do–?"

"Kiss me.  Something chaste."

"Helen..."

"It's eating him up.  Do it."

"He's not the only one that finds this
interesting.  This isn't the best idea you've ever had,
sweetheart.  In front of the entire Darkwater Bay press corps,
it's asking for scrutiny you really don't want right now."

I wound around the front of him and stood on
tiptoe.  The nibble at his chin elicited a deep groan. 
"Is he still watching?"

"I'm surprised you don't feel the daggers in
your back.  Pissing this man off is not a good idea,
Doc.  I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"Everybody knows I'm out of commission," I
said quietly.  "Now he thinks you're so distracted that maybe
you're not paying attention to him either."

"Or, he has us on his radar for reasons you
really don't want to think about, Helen.  He looks angry
enough to come over here and assault you."

"I'm sure," I laid my head against his chest
and murmured.  "It's the ultimate betrayal, taking up with
someone like you and dishonoring his dear cousin's memory like
this.  I hope he chokes on it."

Johnny discreetly set me away from him. "I'm
more curious about why he's here.  In light of our recent
discussions, don't you find it interesting that he's hell bent on
hearing what Don has to say with his own ears?"

"The foundation to his little kingdom
started to crumble when Lowe was arrested.  Now the walls are
falling down.  It's a great day in Darkwater Bay, Johnny."

"I'll reserve my judgment on that until I
hear what it is Don has to say this morning.  And don't say I
didn't warn you. You've drawn more attention than Danny's with that
little stunt you pulled Helen.  Have you met Belle Conall
yet?"

"Crevan's wife?"

"Soon to be ex, and she's headed this
way.  Brace yourself."

A small tape recorder thrust up under my
nose from a woman in a deep pink power suit.  Her blonde hair
was doused heavily with hair spray that rendered it impervious to
the effects of Darkwater's ever-present fog. 

"Dr. Eriksson, Belle Conall from the
Sentinel.  Are you back on active duty now?"

"No comment."

"Do you have any idea what Chief Weber plans
to announce this morning?"

Johnny intervened.  "If she knew, she
wouldn't be here like the rest of you."

"Hello, Johnny.  You haven't returned
any of my calls this week."

"I've been busy."  His thin smile
conveyed annoyance.  "You'd better get back down front with
your colleagues.  I see Weber inside the lobby now."

"
That
is Crevan's wife?"

"Ex, and he looks like he's about to have a
stroke, Doc.  Keep your judgments to yourself.  He's
pretty raw over this divorce."

"Why?" I muttered.  "He should be
counting his blessings to be rid of her."

"Terrible," he chuckled.  "Behave."

"Was that Belle I saw talking to you?"
Crevan skipped the greeting and scanned the crowd for a glimpse of
his ex-wife.

"In the flesh," I said.  "She's..."

"A pain in the ass," Crevan muttered. 
"Sorry if she blindsided you with questions, Helen.  What time
is this thing starting?  We really need to talk about what
Mrs. You-Know-Who had to say this morning."