Nikki said, “You talked to Miguel, didn’t you?”
“Damn straight I talked to Miguel. And the handsome and tasteful Detective Ochoa
and I agree you are crazy for not getting some firepower on your back, girl. That’s
because we have, what? Common sense.” Heat wondered if there existed a single space
in all of Manhattan where she could find peace that morning. Dr. Parry must have
read her stress level because she notched back the pitch. “All right then, I’ve
had my say. Now let’s move on to a more pleasant subject, the new autopsy I did on
Ari Weiss.” She pointed through the window into B-23, the basement autopsy room.
“He’s here?” asked Rook. “I’ve never seen an exhumed body. Can I see?” He didn
’t wait for permission but rushed up to the glass.
Lauren smiled. “I’ve seen four-year-olds do this at the car wash, but that’s a
first here.”
The supine corpse of a man occupied the nearest table. Rook turned back to the ME.
“I was hoping for something more gross.”
“Then come back in fifty years. A body that’s been hermetically sealed in a good
casket in a dry environment will be well preserved.”
“Even after eleven years?”
“Even after eleven years.”
“You’re no fun,” said Rook.
In contemplative silence Nikki stared through the window at the body of Tyler Wynn’
s former associate. The man her mother had been grooming as an informant and who—
much too coincidentally to suit Heat—died shortly after she did. “Have you got a
confirmation of Weiss’s blood disorder?” she asked Lauren.
“The babesiosis? We could wait for the lab or I could tell you my guess right now.
Let me show you why I asked you to come down.”
They suited up and followed the medical examiner into the big room. As they got
closer, they could see that, although it had begun to skeletonize in places and
showed a bit of tissue decomposition, the body remained remarkably intact. “You
know me,” said Lauren, “I’m never one to go out on a limb without test results.”
Heat said, “Yes, but you do love to milk every bit of suspense you can out of
something.”
Even behind her mask, they could tell the ME was smiling. “It’s people. I just
love live people.”
“Consider us sufficiently tantalized,” said Heat.
“Fine. I predict the lab report will say Ari Weiss did not die of blood disease,
but from blood… loss.” With a flourish, Parry snapped the sheet covering Weiss’s
torso. When Nikki saw the large stab wound, it took her back to her mother’s own
knifing, and the implications hit her with a rush.
They hit Rook, too, but he was slightly more demonstrative. “Best. Exhumation.
Ever.”
The Caller ID on Nikki’s cell phone displayed “WHNY TV.” She slid into the driver
’s seat outside OCME and held the phone up to Rook. “Not sure I want this.”
“I’d take it. I believe Channel 3 does its Dialing for Dollars contest about now
between Grace Under Fire reruns. You could win cash and valuable prizes from their
proud sponsors.”
Figuring she’d have to deal with the interview request sooner or later, Heat
pressed Accept. “Detective, it’s George Putnam,” said the Channel 3 news
director. “You know that little stunt you pulled the other night, hijacking Greer
Baxter’s segment?”
“Listen, Mr. Putnam,” said Nikki, as she keyed the ignition and gestured for Rook
to buckle up, “I’m not going to apologize for using the media to aid an
investigation.”
“I’m not looking for an apology. I’m calling because someone responded to your
plea. He doesn’t sound like a crank, and he says it’s urgent. Hold on, I’m
conferencing him in.” After the briefest pause, Putnam said, “You’re on with
Detective Heat. Tell her what you told me.”
The man’s voice sounded subdued, just above a whisper. “Hey, I can’t talk too
loud. She’s here.”
“Who?” asked Heat, unconsciously lowering her tone to match his.