In Case of Death (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 3) (23 page)

Abby turned suddenly, indicating to Nate with her hand to follow her as she left the room. Looking confused, he nevertheless followed her into the living loom while I sipped on my coffee.

What? You can’t do that!
I heard Nate exclaim eventually.

This was followed by mumbling that I couldn’t make out, then Abby saying,
Do you trust me?

Another mumbled response.

Do…You…Trust…Me?

Silence followed for a long time. I was just getting up to get more coffee when they reentered the room, smiling.

“We reached an understanding,” Abby said grinning.

Nodding, Nate added, “I don’t need to know anything about that subject. Probably the less I know the better.”

I nodded, refilling their coffee and setting it before them at the table.

“So anyway,” I said noncommittally, “I’ll find something to do while you guys play with the grownups.”

They both smiled at that as we threw around a couple of other ideas to pitch to Allen.

I had talked a little to Preacher the day before. Even though we had both felt fine after the explosion, we both felt very stiff and stoved up yesterday.

I guess Angels aren’t perfect!

We had consequently decided to take the morning off and meet up at Lenny’s for breakfast.

With what we had to do today, a little rest was probably a good thing.

Chapter 62

September 25, 1999

Lenny’s was only moderately busy when I walked in the door, unusual for a weekday. Since they had started offering breakfast a few months before, the place was usually hopping in the morning.

I spotted Preacher in the booth at the back of the restaurant and made my way there. He looked like he had been in a fight, with some purplish mottling showing in a couple of places on his face.

Still…not bad for what we had been through!

Apparently there was nothing wrong with his appetite however, the plate in front of him was piled high with bacon, eggs and toast. Catching the waitress’s eye, I pointed to his plate, indicating that I would have the same.

“How you feeling?” I asked as I sat down across from him.

“Like I was thrown into a tree at several hundred miles an hour,” he replied glibly before taking another bite of his food.

“How about you?”

“Bout the same,” I said before grimacing at a sudden muscle pain. “Glad to be alive though,” I added with a tight smile.

“Amen to that!” Preacher answered back, placing a hand on his ever-present Bible while evaluating me over the rim of his coffee.

“So, you mentioned something about some work today? What’s on your mind?”

I remained quiet until the waitress had deposited my newly arrived plate of food and walked away before continuing.

“I thought I would take you to meet a friend of mine, a doctor.”

“No offence Gabe,” Preacher responded with a worried look, “but I’m fine, and I can really only go to certain doctors anyway.”

I smiled, “The doctor’s not for you my friend.”

Confusion swept across Preacher’s face momentarily before he reached down and forked up some more egg.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” he said before popping the food into his mouth, “Whose doctor is it?”

“Our hapless delivery van driver’s.” Taking a sip of coffee before continuing, “At least it’s his
new
doctor.”

***

Entering the old city hospital’s basement, I was met with the smell of old coffee and formaldehyde. Officially the Coroner’s office, everyone that knew our current Coroner knew that his
real
office was at the Legion. In fact, since he had obtained a cell phone of late, he only frequented the
official
office when he had a new ‘patient’.

Leading Preacher over to the coffee pot, I filled two mugs with the acidic brew and handed one of them to him.

“Son-of-a bitch! Elvis
is
alive!”

I smiled at the declaration, turning to find my old friend leaning out of the morgue through the double swinging doors.

“Hey Doc! This here’s Preacher…Preacher, meet Doc Elliot, our esteemed Coroner.”

Pushing himself the rest of the way through the doors, Doc nudged his glasses up so that they rested on his forehead above his bushy white eyebrows.

“Preacher eh?” he said as he looked him over top to bottom, “Interesting handle you got there.”

Holding up his bible, “The Good Book guides many things in my life Doc, not the least of which being my nickname.”

“Preacher has been helping us on a case Doc, but his circumstances are rather…secretive, if you catch my drift.”

Doc Elliot gave Preacher another good looking over, his stern face breaking into a grin as he held out his hand in greeting.

“We all got secrets,” he said, pulling Preacher close and then whispering loudly, “Makes things a helluva lot more interesting!”

I smiled. Doc Elliot had been a doctor in these parts for as long as anyone could remember. Most of the people alive around here over the age of ten had been brought into this world with him standing there and catching them when they came out…including myself.

“We were interested in anything you might have found on the man caught in the explosion the other day Doc, especially anything you may have found that is …unusual?”

“I was just going over what was left of the body again,” he responded while turning and heading back into the Morgue. “Come on back, although you may wanna grab a mask before you come in…he’s getting mighty ripe.”

Finding the box of masks, I handed one to Preacher before fitting one over my mouth and nose. Entering through the swinging doors, we were met by what looked like a pile of meat and bones.

“Yech,” I reacted to the sight on the table, “Can you get anything useful out of
that?”

“Not much as far as your standard stuff, I was able to get fingerprints off of what was left of two fingers, and I sent in the DNA of course.”

“Anything in the
nonstandard
realm you can let us in on?” I asked, still staring queasily at the pile on the table.

“Entamoeba Histolytica,” he stated like he was ordering a hamburger.

“Enta what?” I asked in confusion?

“It’s a parasite,” Doc said as he opened a file lying next to the body, “Usually get something like that from overseas travel. This guy was riddled with it, lesions on the intestinal wall, a liver abscess caused by it, and it had gotten into his lungs and brain. He had to be in some sort of pain, and would have probably died from it in the near future. It’s a shame really; it’s
very
treatable with modern drugs.”

Overseas travel confirmed to me that this was most likely the assassin hired to do the killing.

“Seems likely to me,” Preacher chimed in, “That if he was hiding his identity, he may not have had access to normal doctoring.”

“And any he may have had access to probably wouldn’t have access to drugs for an exotic disease,” I added.

I mulled this around in my head for a few moments before I saw a look I recognized on Doc.

“You’ve got something else, don’t you,” I smiled, “What else do you know great swami?”

“Not anything that a
regular
cop would be interested in, but then… you never been much about being regular.”

I smiled at my friend’s assessment, knowing he was right and also knowing that was one of the things he liked about me.

“What have you found?” I asked excitedly.

“This guy was hairless.”

“Hairless?” I asked, “You mean like a genetic problem.”

“Nope!” Doc grinned, “Shaved, lasered, or with the help of chemicals…this man removed every follicle of hair on his body. Probably took a lot of time and/or money to keep it that way.”

“Ok,” I mumbled as I gave that fact some thought. “Why would this guy do something like that?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Doc lectured. “I found the trace of a substance on his head for instance. Sent it over to the lab yesterday, and Percy sent back the analysis this morning. It turns out to be type of glue that is used almost exclusively for wigs.”

“That makes sense,” Preacher joined in the discussion then. “If he was an assassin, he could create many looks from the use of wigs, maybe even looking like a woman at times.”

That made sense, and also lent validity to the confused description that Abby had given of her attacker. She initially thought that a woman was attacking her, until she hurt him and heard his howls of pain.

“Yes,” I answered thoughtfully, “But that wouldn’t necessarily be a valid reason to shave
everything.
That fact may point to a completely
different
reason.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Doc piped in then, grinning through his bushy white mustache. “Actions such as those of our unnamed friend here often point to an unusual sexual proclivity or two.”

“Humph,” Preacher uttered, reminding me for a second of Frank. “That’s probably not going to get us anywhere.”

“Don’t give up on the idea too quickly,” I said to Preacher, a grin spreading across my face.

“I may know someone that could help us in that department.”

Chapter 63

September 25, 1999

Driving down Arch Street later that day, I took in the surrounding neighborhood. Some of the more conservative people in town would probably be shocked at what goes on down here on a Friday night.

“Just how well do you know this woman?” Preacher asked suspiciously, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

I had to laugh at the question.

“Everybody that has ever been a beat cop in this town knows her,” I replied without embarrassment.

“If you knew her when you were with the city, she must be pretty old by now,” Preacher observed. “Maybe she’s not in it anymore.”

“She doesn’t walk the streets anymore,” I continued as I turned down Tate Street, “But she is still around. She still has her own clients, but she’s sort of the unofficial madam of most of the younger girls in the area.”

“Plus,” I added as I parked the car at the curb, “She deals in information. It will usually cost you some cash to get it, but it’s almost always on the mark.”

Preacher nodded, looking out the window at the house we had stopped in front of, a ramshackle affair with no paint left on the siding and the windows covered with newspaper.

“She must be lacking customers on both counts, her house looks ready to fall in,” Preacher mumbled before turning back toward me. “I guess she wouldn’t just accept credit card payment over the phone for the info?”

I grinned at my partner before I opened the driver’s door.

“Don’t let the outside fool you. She just leaves it that way to aggravate her neighbors.”

“Besides,” I added with a wink, “I never said that
I
would have to pay.”

***

“Jesus!”

Being more of a nocturnal animal, it had taken several rounds of knocking at Lacy Love’s door to finally roust her out of bed. When she did eventually open the door, she was met by the sight of Preacher.

After a few moments of shock, her professional attitude kicked in, her gravelly voice pointing to her steady two pack-a-day habit.

“Listen buddy, unless you really
are
Elvis and wanna share your fortune, you need to come back tonight after 10:00.”

“Hello Lacy,” I said from the sidewalk, hidden from her view by the solid door.

Her eyes went wide in shock as a worried look appeared on her face. Before I knew what was happening, she had raised a sawed-off shotgun that she had been holding behind her. Quickly poking the barrel into Preacher’s chest, she kept pressure on it as she continued.

“I don’t like surprises mister, tell your goddamned friend to come out where I can see im!”

I smiled for a moment as I saw Preacher’s reaction to the barrel of the gun being pressed against his chest. A confident smirk appeared on his lips, and I knew he would try to disarm her at any second if I didn’t step in.

Who would ultimately win that tussle; I wouldn’t be willing to bet on.

“He’s a friend of mine Lacy,” I said as I stepped out from behind the door, “You used to treat my friends a little better than that!”

It took her a few moments to focus on my face, a small smile appearing as recognition set in. Lowering the shotgun, she stepped back to allow us entrance.”

“You coulda just told me who you were asshole,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips.