“Work?” I said.
“Oh yes, he always leaves right about this time. To avoid traffic, you know. Although I don’t think that’s really possible.” She hesitated, suddenly aware of the stranger before her. “Might I tell him who dropped by?”
“Dr. Kay Scarpetta,” I said. “And I really must find him.”
“Why of course.” She seemed as pleased as she was surprised. “I’ve heard him speak of you. He’s enormously fond of you and will be absolutely delighted to hear you came by. What brings you to London?”
“I never miss an opportunity to visit here. Might you tell me where I could find him?” I asked again.
“Of course. The Westminster Public Mortuary on Horseferry Road.” She hesitated, uncertain. “I should have thought he would have told you.”
“Yes.” I smiled. “And I’m very pleased for him.”
I wasn’t certain what I was talking about, but she seemed very pleased, too.
“Don’t tell him I’m coming,” I went on. “I intend to surprise him.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant. He will be absolutely thrilled.”
I caught another taxi as I thought about what I believed she had just said. No matter Mant’s reason for what he had done, I could not help but feel slightly furious.
“You going to the Coroner’s Court, ma’am?” the driver asked me. “It’s right there.” He pointed out the open window at a handsome brick building.
“No, I’m going to the actual mortuary,” I said.
“All right. Well that’s right here. Better to walk in than be carried,” he said with a hoarse laugh.
I got out money as he parked in front of a building small by London standards. Brick with granite trim and a strange parapet along the roof, it was surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence painted the color of rust. According to the date on a plaque at the entrance, the mortuary was more than a hundred years old, and I thought about how grim it would have been to practice forensic medicine in those days. There would have been few witnesses to tell the story except for the human kind, and I wondered if people had lied less in earlier times.
The mortuary’s reception area was small but pleasantly furnished like a typical lobby for a normal business.
Through an open door was a corridor, and since I did not see anyone, I headed that way just as a woman emerged from a room, her arms loaded with oversized books.
“Sorry,” she said, startled. “But you can’t come back here.”
“I’m looking for Dr. Mant,” I said.
She wore a loose-fitting long dress and sweater, and spoke with a Scottish accent. “And who may I tell him is here to see him?” she politely said.
I showed her my credentials.
“Oh very good, I see. Then he’s expecting you.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” I said.
“I sec.” She shifted the books to another arm and was very confused.
“He used to work with me in the States,” I said. “I’d like to surprise him, so I prefer to find him if you’ll just tell me where.”
“Dear me, that would be the Foul Room just now. If you go through this door here.” She nodded at it. “And you’ll see locker rooms to the left of the main mortuary.
Everything you need is there, then turn left again through another set of doors, and right beyond that. Is that clear?”
She smiled.
“Thank you,” I said.
In the locker room I put on booties, gloves and mask, and loosely tied a gown around me to keep the odor out of my clothes. I passed through a tiled room where six stainless-steel tables and a wall of white refrigerators gleamed.
The doctors wore blue, and Westminster was keeping them busy this morning. They scarcely glanced at me as I walked past. Down the hall I found my deputy chief in tall rubber boots, standing on a footstool as he worked on a badly decomposing body that I suspected had been in water for a while. The stench was terrible, and I shut the door behind me.
“Dr. Mant,” I said.
He turned around and for an instant did not seem to know who I was or where he was. Then he simply looked shocked.