“Interesting,” Peter said. “Do you think it is significant?”
“Absolutely,” Laurie said. “I think it means Julia was fighting for her life.”
“You think she’s still in there?” Tony asked. He was more antsy than usual. “She could have left while I was going back to get you. And if she’s not in there, then we’re wasting our time sitting here like a couple of chumps.”
“You’ve got a good point,” Angelo said. “But before we move in I wish we could make sure she didn’t call the cops. I still don’t understand why she split unless she didn’t think we were real cops. I mean, isn’t she the solid-citizen type? What does she have to hide from cops? It doesn’t make sense, and when something doesn’t make sense, it means I’m missing something. And when I’m missing something, it scares me.”
“God, you’re always worrying,” Tony said. “Let’s just go in there, get her, and be done with it.”
“All right,” Angelo said. “But take it easy. And bring the bag. We’re going to have to play this one by ear.”
“I’m with you all the way,” Tony said eagerly. Due to the unconsummated chase after Laurie, Tony’s appetite for action had been honed to a razor’s edge. He was a bundle of nervous energy.
“I think we’d better put the silencers on our guns,” Angelo said. “No telling what we’re going to meet. And we’re going to have to work fast.”
“Great!” Tony exclaimed. With obvious excitement he pulled out his Bantam and attached the silencer. It took him a moment because his hand trembled with pleasurable anticipation.
Angelo gave him a hard look, then shook his head in exasperation. “Try to stay calm. Let’s go!”
They got out of the car and ran across the street and between the two mortuary vans. They ran hunched over, trying to avoid the drizzle as much as possible. They entered the same way they had that afternoon, through the morgue loading dock. Angelo was in the lead. Tony followed with the black doctor’s bag in one hand and his gun in the other. In an attempt to conceal the gun, he had it partially under his jacket.
Angelo was almost past the open door to the security office when someone inside yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in there.”
Tony collided with Angelo when his partner stopped abruptly. A guard in a blue uniform was sitting at his desk. In front of him was a game of solitaire.
“Where you guys think you’re going?” he asked.
Before Angelo could respond, Tony raised his Bantam and aimed it at the surprised guard’s forehead. He pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. The slug hit the guard in his head, just above his left eye, so that he fell over onto his desk, his head landing with a solid thump on his card game. Except for the pool of blood forming on the desk top, a passerby might have thought the man was simply asleep on the job.
“What the hell did you shoot him for?” Angelo snarled. “You could have given me a chance to talk with him.”
“He was going to give us trouble,” Tony said. “You said we had to be fast.”
“What if he has a partner?” Angelo said. “What if the partner comes back? Where will we be then?”
Tony frowned.
“Come on!” Angelo said.
They peered into the mortuary office. There was cigarette smoke in the air and a live butt in an ashtray by the desk, but no one was in sight. Leaving the office and advancing cautiously into the morgue proper, Angelo glanced into the small auxiliary autopsy room used for decomposed bodies. The dissecting table was barely visible in the half-light.
“This place gives me the creeps,” he admitted.
“Me too,” Tony said. “It’s nothing like the funeral home I worked at. Look at the floor. This place is disgusting.”
“Why are so many lights off?” Angelo asked.
“Saving money?” Tony suggested.
They came to the huge U-shaped mass of refrigerator compartments stacked four-high, each with its own heavily hinged door. “You think all the bodies are in here?” Angelo asked, pointing toward the bank of cooler doors.