“In which instance?”
“Erm… mine. The decapitated head, in particular.”
“It came back today, actually. But I don’t have access to it. Why do you ask?”
“I think we’ve overlooked a glaringly obvious clue to who the Collector is.”
“I thought it was Rossi,” Neil said.
“Itis,” I replied. “But proof of that will get you both reinstated. You do want your job back, right?”
Neil grumbled.
“The orbital socket is smooth on a regular skull,” I said. “Not perfectly round, but no jagged edges. Mine had one of the eyes removed, remember? That takes skill and practice and training to do without leaving a mark. Rossi isn’t a doctor. He’ll have left identifying cuts all over the bone.”
“That’s damn right,” Quinn said, loud enough for Neil to hear. “Millett, what about trace evidence? Tell me you got something before being slapped on the wrist with a suspension.”
“Sure, I got it. It’s in my email, which I’ve been locked out of. Apparently I’m lucky to have not been arrested for obstruction of justice,” he said sarcastically.
“What did you do to Wainwright this morning to piss him off so much?” I asked.
“I bet he decked him, right, Millett? You’ve got plenty of suppressed frustration under those fancy suits,” Quinn remarked with a chuckle.
Neil declined to comment further on that topic. “I might have a work-around. How far are you from the ME’s office?”
“Leaving Greenwich Village now,” she answered.
“Good. Head over there. I’m going to cash in one of my favors on Dr. Asquith.”
“Who’s that?” I asked as Quinn made an eastbound turn at the end of the block.
“An ME I’ve worked with on a few cases. You should remember her from the dumpster-diver kid back in May,” Neil explained.
“Oh. Right. Vaguely,” I said.Reallyvaguely. Quinn had been hauling my ass into the Emporium so I wouldn’t snoop on her conversation with Calvin.
“Anyway, she’s still new enough to not have had the hopes and dreams beaten out of her. I’ll tell her to expect you, Quinn.”
MEDICAL EXAMINERSare weird.
And not weird like me. I meant, weird like they were in their own fucking stratosphere. But having a unique sense of humor probably made their jobs easier, considering they dealt with the very intimate remains of humans who once experienced love and loss and every emotion in between. I couldn’t imagine doing that day in and day out. I didn’t think I’d be able to professionally distance myself from the person they once were, to the corpse on the table now. I cared too deeply about stories tonotcare what they did with their time on Earth, and why they were moved to do so.
I guess that’s why I collected antiques. Their stories were easier on the heart and the mind.
Less stinky too.
Anyway, whatever favor Neil had pulled from his magic hat worked. Quinn, well acquainted with the staff at the Manhattan office of the Chief Medical Examiner, greeted folks as if it was a usual day. Her presence was unquestioned. I was told to sign in and was given a visitor’s badge to wear before taking the elevators downstairs. I’d left Cope in my messenger bag, safely stowed in the trunk of Quinn’s car. The last thing I needed was to get stopped by security on our way out of the ME’s office and they think I was trying to smuggle old bones out.
“I can’t believe the morgue is in the basement,” I said.
“That upsets you?”
“It’s banal.”
Quinn laughed a little. She put her hands in her pockets as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.
Waiting against the far wall was a petite woman with a huge grin on her face. She seemed about my age but Quinn’s height, with long light-colored hair pulled into two braids. She clapped her hands together, bounced on her toes, then ran straight at me as we stepped into the hall.
“Mr. Sebastian Snow!” she exclaimed, bypassing Quinn entirely. She grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Detective Millett mentioned your name on the phone. I’m real happy to finally meet you!”
