"How about lunch?" Dean asked abruptly. "We should get to know each other better."
An hour and seventeen minutes later Kiang was in court and April, with a glow on her face and a delicious Chinese lunch in her belly, caught up with Rosa Washington in the medical examiner's office.
"You can talk if you walk. But shake a leg, I'm in a hurry." Rosa Washington was still drying her hands as she swept out of her suite, forcing April to jog after her. She was wearing a fresh scrub suit but no cap. Her black hair was in a pageboy, and she was all business.
"Any leads on the killer?" she asked.
"Yes, some," April said.
"Well, give. What do you have?" Rosa arrived at the fire stairs and opened the door.
"You first," April said. "What did you find in Merrill Liberty?" Rosa started down the stairs, again compelling April to follow her lead.
"Didn't your partner tell you?"
"Sanchez? He's from Homicide. He's not my partner," April told her back. Rosa knew that.
"He didn't put you in then." Rosa skipped down the first flight of stairs.
"Put me in on what?" April spoke to Rosa's back as she trotted down the stairs.
"The loop. God, those guys screw you every time." Rosa spoke to the air in front of her.
Guys in general, or cop guys? "Slow down a minute, will you?" April asked.
Rosa showed no sign of hearing the request. "Why did your buddies hold out on you?"
"They didn't hold out. I've been in the field all morning. That's why I wasn't present at the autopsy myself."
"I wondered why you didn't show. I thought nobody told you."
That too.
Rosa hit the next floor still running.
"Maybe you'll keep me informed on the next one," April suggested.
"We're doing the next one now."
"Petersen?"
"No, Abraham's still home sick, but thinks he's coming back for Petersen tomorrow."
"I gather you have your doubts."
"Yes, I do." Rosa slowed down suddenly the better to deliver her good news. "His voice sounds like a dying cat. Worse than yesterday. My bet is Malcolm ends up in the hospital tomorrow. You know, you could help me out. We could help each other here, two little minority girls and everything."
"Oh, yeah." Which one of them was little?
"How about getting your buddies in the puzzle palace—and the DA's office—to pump up the pressure on getting the autopsy results. If Abraham gets too many phone calls on Petersen, he'll have to give in and let me do the job. He hates negative publicity even more than having a deputy hog the limelight." She turned and resumed her charge down the stairs. "Anyway, it's my turn."
The puzzle palace was police headquarters. April smiled at the thought of having buddies in that place where a bunch of mortal ghosts she didn't know could elevate or destroy her with the stroke of a pen. She considered herself neither a girl nor a minority. Certainly not a little minority girl. She'd never heard anyone talk like that. Most minority girls like herself and Rosa acted like they were normal people. Like the rainbow pals on TV sitcoms.
"I'll see what I can do. What about the results of Merrill Liberty's autopsy?"
"I heard you just got promoted." Rosa hit her third set of stairs, still jogging, not panting a bit.
"I did."
"So, you know how it is when it's your turn."
"Yes, Doc. I do."
"You can't let those guys keep you out of the loop."
"No, you can't."
Rosa laughed. The sound was pleasant, like soft water on stones. "You don't have much conversation, do you?"
"I was just thinking about the case. What about the Liberty woman?"
"Okay, okay . . . There were no bruises on the face, or body. Just the one wound in the neck. Neat, precise. The killer knew what he was doing, was not an amateur. What do you think of the DA?'"
"He's cute," April said.
"You think so, really?"
"Sure, for a prosecutor."
"You think he could talk to his boss?"
"I don't know, Rosa."
"Ask him. And then I'll call you when I do Petersen. Here we are. You want to come with me? You might learn something on this one. It's a burn victim. She smells like barbecue."
"Ah, no thanks. Can you fill me in a little more on the Liberty woman?"
Rosa sighed and stopped in the hall outside the swinging metal doors. "She had a tipped uterus. You know, people used to think you couldn't get pregnant without surgery to fix it. That's baloney. She did have some scarring in the uterus, though. Probably couldn't have children."
"Botched abortion?"
"No way to tell. Might have been surgery for endometriosis. She had some endometriosis in an odd place, behind the uterus where it would have been hard to detect. She probably experienced quite a bit of pain, but who knows?"
"What else?"
"The disc between the fourth and fifth vertebrae in her neck was badly compressed. A few of the others also showed signs of degeneration. She probably had sciatica that affected her right leg."
"How do you know that?"
"Her right calf was half an inch smaller than her left. That meant she wasn't exercising it, had been favoring her right leg for quite a while. The muscles had begun to atrophy slightly."
"So this wasn't a recent injury."
"Probably wasn't an injury at all. She might have had arthritis. She had some deformation in the bones in her feet, particularly her toes. She probably took a lot of ballet classes when she was a kid. She might have had the sciatica for a long time, years."
"Anything else?"
Rosa thought for a second. "Everything else was pretty normal. I'll get a report to you in a day or two."
"Tox results?"
"Same. Look, I have to go; you sure you don't want to see this one?"
"No thanks, I'm not fond of human barbecue."
"Very funny, Woo. You're not so bad, after all."
April didn't think that was funny. But she was pleased to be liked.
"And remember to call your DA boyfriend for me. I need all the help I can get." Rosa pulled a green surgical cap out of her pocket and put it on, tucking her pageboy carefully around her glasses and into the cap without needing a mirror. Then she tied the strings under her chin and smiled at April a last time to show what buddies they were and how enthusiastic she was about her work.
16
A hard icy rain fell steadily at seven-thirty when Jason pushed through the small stakeout of reporters still encamped in front of Rick Liberty's building. There were fewer than the night before, but they were just as persistent under their umbrellas and tents. Several called out questions to Jason, but he didn't even turn to see who was talking, just shook his head.
Upstairs in the apartment, Patrice from the restaurant was serving drinks and food to several of Rick's friends, but it was Rick who opened the door. "Thanks for coming," he said. He took Jason's coat and stepped around some recent florist shop deliveries to hang it in the closet.
"Wow, this is something," Jason murmured. The large space was crowded, filled with plants and floral arrangements, some not even opened yet. Most of those that had been set out on the floor and tables were white. Lilies, tulips, roses, baby's breath, carnations, bonsai of azalea, blossoming branches. A stack of gift and condolence cards sat on a table. It was a stunning display.
"Yes, isn't it crazy?"
Voices drifted in from another room. Jason noticed the buffet set up in the dining room and a well-stocked bar on a living-room table. He longed for a drink. "Am I interrupting?"