The nurses like to get dinner over with early."
"How long do you think he'd been dead?" asked Palliser.
Rasmussen shrugged. "He was still warm. I'd say not over an hour-possibly less. What do we do about the body? I thought you'd want to see it, told the nurses to stay out."
Higgins looked at his watch and swore. "We'd better have some pictures, at least. And unless somebody's working overtime in the lab-" He got up, went to call in.
Then Rasmussen took them up to the third floor and pointed out the room halfway along the hall. There was a little huddle of nurses gathered at the station at that end, whispering excitedly together. They eyed Higgins and Palliser with avid curiosity. "He's in the bed by the window," said Rasmussen, following them in.
The patients in the first two beds, two old men, seemed to be asleep or in comas; neither stirred. The white curtain was pulled across the side of the bed by the window. They stepped around it and looked at the dead man. Alisio had been a small old man, thin and bald with a big nose. The gray-stubbled face was contorted, his mouth and eyes open, the body twisted to one side, right arm up over his head-he had struggled for his ebbing life. The pillow was on one side of the body and they could see the little piece bitten out of the casing, the stains on the rest.
"I will be damned," said Higgins. "I left word at the lab. Somebody will be out as soon as the night watch comes in. I don't suppose it'd disturb the other patients in here, if you 1 just leave him a couple of hours."
Rasmussen said, "Unlikely."
"Well, after our men have got some photographs, we'd like you to send the body down to the coroner's office for autopsy. The nurses on now don't go off shift until eleven, is that right?"
"Right."
"What I'd like you to do," said Higgins, massaging his jaw and thinking, "is to notify the family that he's dead. Just that. They'd been expecting him to go-they won't be surprised."
"They'll want the body," said Rasmussen. "What do we tell them?"
"Oh, we'll be around asking questions," said Higgins. "I guess we can leave it for the night watch, John. And I think I'll call Luis. He always likes the offbeat ones. He's going to love this one, in spades."
MENDOZA HAD EXCHANGED the orderly peace at the office for the bedlam of an obstreperous family at home. "They've been wild as hawks all day," said Alison crossly.
The twins flung themselves at him and pummeled him.
"Daddy, Daddy! I galloped real fast on Star and Uncle Ken says I'm a tomboy, what's a tomboy.?" "Daddy, Mama says we can't take the ponies to school, why couldn't we ride the ponies to school?"
"It wouldn't be good for them to walk on the street," said Mendoza at random.
"Mairi's been fixing my uniform. Girls get to wear a uniform because they're more important than boys," said Terry loudly.
"Are not! Girls aren't important to anybody! And I galloped faster on Diamond! Why wouldn't it be good for them, Daddy?"
"Nobody's more important than anybody else," said Alison. "For heaven's sake, go to your rooms and play quietly at something and give your father some peace. It's the school, of course. They'll settle down in a couple of days, I hope."
Tomorrow was the opening day of the semester for both public and parochial schools. Having completed kindergarten, Johnny and Terry would be starting first grade at the Immaculate Heart Parochial School down the hill in Burbank. And as Alison said, her good Scots Presbyterian father was probably turning in his grave, but it couldn't be helped. At least they'd get a sounder education than most public schools offered these days.
"Why wouldn't it be good for them, Daddy?"
"It would hurt their feet," said Alison. The cats, affronted at all the noise, had departed huffily. Cedric began to bark.
"But we want to ride the ponies to school! It'd be lots more fun than riding an old school bus. Why can't we-"
"We've told you why," said Alison.
"And besides, if girls aren't more important than boys, how come I get to wear a uniform and Johnny doesn't? A uniform is special."
"Because that's the way the school rules are," said Alison. "And we'll hear no more about it. You two go and see what Mairi's doing."
"I know what she's doing, she's fixing my uniform because the skirt was too long."
"And I don't see a uniform is so special, she's got to wear it, it's a rule, and I can wear anything I want. So-"
"No, you can't. You have to wear dark pants and a white shirt, so that's like a uniform too. And now we'll drop the subject. Why don't you go out and see the ponies again?"
"We want Daddy to play with us," shouted Terry promptly. "Play bears and lions!"
"Oh, Terry, you haven't played that since you were a baby. Daddy's too tired to play."
"?Demonios, que relajo! " said Mendoza. " Basta, you two. Daddy's got too much to think about to play. You chase off and visit the ponies."
"We already did. We just came back, and Uncle Ken said we was little devils."
"So you are," said Alison. She finally persuaded them to begin practicing their reading for school, and they made as much noise on the stairs as both the ponies. Alison sank down on the couch. "What a day, and what a relief to have them in school all day! I'll bet you in a week's time it'll be, why do we have to go to school?"
Mendoza laughed. "I wouldn't doubt. They'll grow out of it sometime, carina." He went out to the kitchen for a drink. El Senor heard the cupboard open and was on the counter before he had the top off the bottle. Mendoza said, " Borracho," and poured him half an ounce. Back in the living room he said, "The Surete hasn't a damn thing to tell us. And you know we can't leave her in the morgue. There ought to be some sort of funeral."
"Oh, dear," said Alison. She sat up and lit a cigarette. "I know there was something else she said that just escapes me-and you know it sounds silly, Luis, we didn't know the girl at all, but I feel somehow that we ought to send flowers or attend the funeral or something."
"Yes, I know." Mendoza had the same queer feeling. He was still thinking about Juliette, which was futile, because there wasn't anything else he could do about it, when they settled down after dinner. For once Kipling couldn't hold his interest. But at eight-thirty Higgins called to tell him about the new offbeat one and that gave him something else to think about.
“WELL, OF ALL THE RIGMAROLES,"I said Conway, scanning Higgins' note. "The day men have left us a little work. On the other hand, we may meet some pretty nurses." He shoved the note over to Piggott.
"Somebody's got to mind the store," said Schenke. "I'll toss you for it."
"No, I want to go talk to the nurses. What a hell of a funny thing," said Conway. "Why bother to murder a man who's as good as dead already?"
"Could've been what they call a mercy killing," suggested Piggott. "Some people don't think so straight about things like that."
"Or a homicidal maniac among the orderlies," said Conway. "O. K, Bob. You sit on the store and if you get swamped, you know where we are. Come on, Matt. Let's see what we can find out about the maniac."
Schenke sat and finished his historical novel in the unnatural gloom and quiet of the big office, before the desk relayed a call. It wasn't a heist this time, but a mugging, and it looked like another in that series that was probably organized gang activity. It was the parking lot at Madame Wu's in Little Tokyo, and the couple were fighting mad.
They looked like money, a couple in the thirties, Mr; and Mrs. James Ferguson, dressed to the nines. Her expensive evening gown had one sleeve ripped nearly out. He had the start of a fine shiner and his sport shirt was slashed. "God-damn it," he was saying to the patrolman, probably for the tenth time, "I tried to put up a fight, but there must've been six or eight of the damn bastards-"