Inside the conference room, Evans sat stiffly in a chair about halfway between the head and foot of the table. Around the room many photographs of former chiefs gazed at me as I sat across from this security guard who had just allowed my workplace to be turned into a crime scene. Evans was an older black man who needed his job. He wore a khaki uniform with brown flaps over the pockets and carried a gun that I wondered if he knew how to use.
‘Do you know what’s going on?’ Marino pulled out a chair and asked him.
‘No, sir. I sure don’t.’ His eyes were scared.
‘Someone made a delivery they wasn’t supposed to make.’ Marino got out his cigarettes again. ‘It was while you was on.’
Evans frowned. He looked genuinely clueless. ‘You mean a body?’
‘Listen.’ I stepped in. ‘I know what the SOP is. We all do. You know about the suicide case. We just talked about it on the phone . . .’
Evans interrupted, ‘Like I said, I let him in.’
‘What time?’ Marino asked.
He looked up at the ceiling. ‘I guess it would’ve been around three in the morning. I was next door at the desk where I always sit and this hearse pulls up.’
‘Pulls up where?’ Marino asked.
‘Behind the building.’
‘If it was behind the building, how could you see it? The lobby where you sit’s in front of the building,’ Marino bluntly said.
‘I didn’t see it,’ the guard went on. ‘But this man walks up and I see him through the glass. I go out to ask what he wants, and he says he has a delivery.’
‘What about paperwork?’ I asked. ‘He didn’t show you anything?’
‘He says the police hadn’t finished their report and told him to go on. He says they’ll bring it by later.’
‘I see,’ I said.
‘He says his hearse is parked out back,’ Evans continued. ‘He says a wheel on his stretcher’s stuck and asks if he can use one of ours.’
‘Did you know him?’ I asked, containing my anger.
He shook his head.
‘Can you describe him?’ I then asked.
Evans thought for a minute. ‘To tell you the truth, I didn’t look close. But it seems like he was light skinned with white hair.’
‘His hair was white?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I’m sure of that.’
‘He was old?’
Evans frowned again. ‘No, ma’am.’
‘How was he dressed?’
‘Seems like he had on a dark suit and tie. You know, the way most funeral home folks dress.’
‘Fat, thin, tall, short?’
Thin. Medium height.’
‘Then what happened?’ Marino said.
‘Then I told him to pull up to the bay and I’d let him in. I cut through the building like I always do and open the bay door. He come in and there’s a stretcher in the hall. So he takes it, gets the body and comes back. He signs him in and all that.’ Evans’s eyes drifted. ‘And he put the body in the fridge and went on.’ He wouldn’t look at us.
I took a deep, quiet breath and Marino blew out smoke.
‘Mr. Evans,’ I said, 1 just want the truth.’
He glanced at me.
‘You’ve got to tell us what happened when you let him in,’ I said. That’s all I want. Really.’
Evans looked at me and his eyes got bright. ‘Dr. Scarpetta, I don’t know what’s happened, but I can tell it’s bad. Please don’t be getting mad at me. I don’t like it down there at night. I’d be a liar if I said I did. I try to do a good job.’
‘Just tell the truth.’ I measured my words. That’s all we want.’
‘I take care of my mama.’ He was about to cry. ‘I’m all she’s got and she’s got terrible heart trouble. I been going over there every day and doing her shopping since my wife passed on. I got a daughter raising three young’uns on her own.’
‘Mr. Evans, you are not going to lose your job,’ I said, even though he deserved to.
He briefly met my eyes. Thank you, ma’am. I believe what you’re saying. But it’s what other people will say that worries me.’