“Do you think he’s on the take?”
“I don’t have any idea. What could he be on the take for?”
“Anything. Pituitary glands for growth hormone ; gold teeth; special favors.”
“I don’t know. But I guess it wouldn’t surprise me.”
After the unsettling experience in the Neurosurgical lab, Philips felt particularly ill-at-ease as he followed the red line toward the morgue in the sub-basement. The huge, dark, cavern-like room outside of the morgue looked like the perfect setting for some gothic horror. The quartz window in the door of the incinerator glowed in the darkness like the eye of a cyclopean monster.
“For God’s sakes, Martin. What the hell is wrong with you?” said Philips, trying to fortify his waning confidence. The morgue looked exactly as it had the evening before. The bulbless hooded light fixtures hanging down on their wires gave the scene a weird unearthliness. There was a faint odor of decay. The door to the refrigerator was ajar and a bit of its interior light spilled out along with a current of cold mist.
“Werner!” called Philips. His voice echoed in the old tiled room. There was no response. Philips stepped into the room and the door closed insistently behind him. “Werner!” The silence was only broken by a dripping faucet. Tentatively Philips advanced to the refrigerator and glanced within. Werner was struggling with one of the corpses. It had apparently fallen from its gurney because Werner was lifting the naked, stiff cadaver and awkwardly trying to reposition it on the movable stretcher. He could have used some help but Philips stayed where he was and watched. When Werner succeeded in getting the body onto the gurney, Martin stepped into the refrigerator.
“Werner!” Martin’s voice sounded wooden.
The diener flexed his knees and lifted his hands like a jungle creature about to attack. Philips had startled the man.
“I want to talk to you,” said Philips. He had decided to be authoritative, but his voice sounded weak. Surrounded by the dead, his defenses dissolved. “I understand your position and I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I need some information.”
Recognizing Philips, Werner relaxed, but he didn’t move. His breath came in short puffs of condensed vapor.
“I have to find Lisa Marino’s brain. I don’t care who took it or for what reason. I just want a chance to look at it for a research project.”
Werner was like a statue. Except for his visible breaths he was like one of the dead.
“Look,” said Martin. “I’ll pay.” He had never bribed anyone in his life.
“How much?” said Werner.
“A hundred dollars,” said Philips.
“I don’t know anything about Marino’s brain.”
Philips looked at the frozen features of the man. Under the circumstances he felt impotent. “Well, give me a call in X ray if you suddenly remember.” He turned and walked out, but in the corridor he found himself running to the bank of elevators.
Entering the outer foyer of Denise’s apartment building, Philips scanned the nameplates. He knew approximately where hers was, but there were so many, that he always had to search a little. After pushing the black button he waited with his hand on the front doorknob for the buzzer to let him in.
Inside the building it smelled as if everyone had sauted onions for their dinner. Philips started up the stairs. There was an elevator, but if it wasn’t already waiting in the lobby it took too long to arrive. Denise only lived on the third floor and Philips didn’t mind climbing the stairs. But on the last flight, he began to realize how tired he was. It had been a long grueling day.
Denise had again metamorphosed. She no longer looked tired and she said she’d taken a short nap after her bath. Her shining hair had been released from its barrette and cascaded from her head in gentle waves. She was dressed in a pink satin camisole with matching tap pants that left just the right amount to the imagination. Some of Martin’s fatigue lifted. He was always amazed by her ability to drop her efficient hospital personality, though he understood that she was confident enough in her intellectual abilities that she could indulge her feminine fantasies. It was a rare and wonderful balance.