While I waited for the lamp to reach its maximum output, Marino appeared with the amber-tinted glasses needed to protect our eyes from the strong energy light. Flies were getting thicker. They drunkenly knocked against us and droned loudly in our ears.
“Goddamn, I hate those things!” Marino complained, swatting wildly.
I noticed he didn’t have on a jumpsuit, only shoe covers and gloves.
“You going to drive home in a closed car like that?” I asked.
“I got another uniform in the trunk. In case something gets spilled on me or whatever.”
“In case you spill something on you or whatever,” I said, looking at my watch. “We got one more minute.”
“Notice how Anderson’s conveniently disappeared? ‘I knew she would the minute I heard about this one. I just didn’t figure on nobody else being here. Shit, something really weird’s going on.”
“How in the world did she become a homicide detective?”
“She kisses Bray’s ass. I hear she even runs errands for her, takes her brand-new fáncy-schmansy black Crown Vic to the car wash, probably sharpens her pencils and shines her shoes:’
“We’re ready,” I said.
I began scanning with a 450-nanometer filter that was capable of detecting a large variety of residues and stains. Through our tinted glasses, the inside of the container became an impenetrably black outer space scattered with shapes that fluoresced white and yellow in different shades and intensities whenever I pointed the lens. The projected blue light exposed hairs on the floor and fibers everywhere, just as I would expect in a high-traffic area used to store cargo handled by many people. White cardboard cartons glowed a soft white, like the moon.
I moved the Luma-Lite deeper inside the container. Purge fluid didn’t fluoresce, and the body was a dejected dark shape sitting in the corner.
“If he died naturally,” Marino said, “then why’s he sitting up like that with his hands in his lap like he’s in church or something?”
“If he died of suffocation, dehydration, exposure, he could have died sitting up:’
“It sure looks wacko to me.”
“I’m just saying it’s possible. It’s getting tight in here. Can you hand me the fiber optics, please?”
He bumped into cartons as he made his way in my direction.
“You might want to take off your glasses until you get here,” I suggested, because one couldn’t see anything through them except the high-energy light, which wasn’t in Marino’s line of sight at the moment.
“No friggin’ way,” he said. “I hear all it takes is one quick look. And zap. Cataracts, cancer, the whole nine yards.”
“Not to mention turning to stone.”
“Hub?”
“Marino! Careful!”
He bumped into me and ‘I wasn’t sure what happened after that, but suddenly cartons were caving in and he almost knocked me over as he fell.
“Marino?” I was disoriented and frightened. “Marino!”
I cut the power on the Luma-Lite And took-off my glasses so I could see:
“Goddamn fucking son of a bitch!” he yelled as if he’d been bitten by a snake.
He was flat on his back on the floor, shoving and kicking boxes out of the way. The plastic bucket sailed through the air. I got down next to him.
“Stay still,” I firmly told him. “Don’t go thrashing around until we’re sure you’re all right.”
“Oh God! Oh shit! I got this shit all over me!” he yelled in a panic.
“Are you hurting anywhere-?”
“Oh, Jesus, I’m gonna puke. Oh Jesus, oh4esus.”
He rushed to his feet and knocked boxes out of the way as he stumbled toward the container’s opening. I heard him vomit. He groaned and vomited again.
“That should make you feel better,” I said.
He ripped open his white shirt, gagging and heaving as he struggled out of its sleeves. He stripped down to his undershirt, balled up what was left of his uniform shirt and hurled it out the door.
“What if he’s got AIDS?” Marino’s voice sounded like a bell at midnight.
“You’re not going to get AIDS from this guy,” I said.
“Oh, fuck!” He gagged some more.
“I can finish up in here, Marino,” I said.
“Just give me a minute.”
“Why don’t you go on and find a shower.”