“What are you doing with my bodies?” asked Werner, pushing past the doctors and the gurney. Inside the refrigerator he counted the corpses. Pointing to Marino, he said, “Did you take this one out of here?”
Having recovered from his initial shock, Philips marveled at the diener’s proprietary feeling toward the dead. “I’m not sure it’s correct to say ‘your bodies,’ Mr….”
“Werner,” said the diener, walking back to Martin and poking a large index finger in Philips’ face. “Until somebody signs for these corpses, they’re my bodies. I’m responsible.”
Philips thought it better not to argue. Werner’s mouth with its narrow lips was set in a firm, uncompromising line. The man seemed like a coiled spring. Philips started to speak but his voice came out in an embarrassing squeak. Clearing his throat, he started again: “We want to talk to you about one of these bodies. We believe it’s been violated.”
Sanger’s beeper went off for the second time. Excusing herself she hurried over to the wall phone and answered her page. “Which body are you talking about?” snapped Werner. His gaze never left Martin’s face.
“Lisa Marino,” said Philips, pointing to the partially covered corpse. “What do you know about this woman?”
“Not much,” said Werner, turning toward Lisa and relaxing to a degree. “Picked her up from surgery. I think she’s going out later tonight or early in the morning.”
“What about the body itself?” Martin noticed the diener wore his hair in a crew cut, brushed straight up along the sides.
“Nice,” said Werner, still looking at Lisa.
“What do you mean, nice?” asked Philips.
“Best looking woman I’ve had for some time,” said Werner. As he turned to face Martin, his mouth pulled back in an obscene smile.
Momentarily disarmed, Martin swallowed. His mouth was dry and he was glad when Denise returned saying, “I’ve got to go. I’ve been paged from the ER to check a skull film.”
“All right,” said Martin, trying to arrange his thoughts. “Meet me in my office when you’re free.”
Denise nodded, and with a sense of relief, she left.
Martin, distinctly ill-at-ease alone with Werner in the morgue, forced himself to walk over to Lisa Marino. Pulling back the sheet he rotated Lisa’s corpse by pulling up her shoulder. Pointing to the carefully sutured incision, Philips said, “What do you know about this?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Werner quickly.
Philips wasn’t even sure the diener had seen what Martin was pointing to. Letting Lisa’s body roll back on the cart, Philips studied the man. His rigid countenance reminded Martin of a Nazi cliche.
“Tell me,” said Philips. “Have any of Mannerheim’s boys been down here today?”
“I don’t know,” said Werner. “I was told there was to be no autopsy.”
“Well, that’s no autopsy incision,” said Philips. Grabbing the edge of the sheet, Philips pulled it over Lisa Marino. “Something strange is going on. Are you sure you don’t know anything about this?”
Werner shook his head.
“We’ll see,” said Philips. He walked out of the refrigerator, leaving the gurney for Werner to deal with. The diener waited until he heard the outer doors close. Then he grabbed the cart and gave it a powerful shove. It shot out of the refrigerator, sped halfway across the morgue, and crashed into the corner of the marble autopsy table, tipping over with a tremendous clatter. The IV bottle smashed into a million shards.
Dr. Wayne Thomas leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. Lynn Anne Lucas was sitting on the old examining table. Their eyes were on the same level; his, alert and contemplative; hers, drained and exhausted.
“What about this recent urinary infection?” said Dr. Thomas. “It cleared up on the sulfa drugs. Is there anything else about that illness that you haven’t mentioned?”
“No,” said Lynn Anne, slowly, “except they did send me to a urologist. He told me that I had a problem of too much urine being in my bladder after I’d gone to the bathroom. He told me to see a neurologist.”
“Did you?”
“No. The problem cleared up on its own, so I didn’t think it mattered.”
The curtain parted and Dr. Sanger poked her head in.