Chief Medical Examiner Slope put on his reading glasses and consulted a clipboard as he moved down the length of the steel wall in company with a morgue attendant. They stopped in front of a locker, and the attendant opened a door to roll out the body Mallory liked best.
Riker buttoned his coat as he walked toward the corpse on the locker bed. The cold air lessened the odor of dead meat and chlorine. And now he was looking down at all the signs of a full autopsy. Cruel cuts ran the length of the gutted torso. Each organ had been probed and weighed. The chemistry of fluid and tissue had been checked. Even the skull had been violated to get at the brain, and every orifice had been savaged – royal treatment for a dead junkie. It had been this corpse’s great good luck to belong to Detective Mallory.
The unflayed sections of skin mapped out a small, mean life. Riker could count all the ribs of this addict who had loved heroin more than food. The hands were marked with crude drawings of snakes made with ink and pinpricks. This self-mutilation spoke of extended time in a lockup, perhaps one of the many drug treatment centers his uncle had paid for. The face was frozen in the interrupted whine of a pulled-back upper lip. A more professional tattoo emblazoned the dead boy’s complaint on one shoulder in capital letters, LIFE SUCKS.
Dr. Slope dismissed the morgue technician with a curt nod. Lowering his glasses, he turned to Mallory. „Back from your little vacation?“
Mallory shook her head. „If the reporters ask, you never saw me.“
Riker looked down at the late Richard Tree, better known in broadcasting and print as Crossbow Man. He had been misnamed, for he was closer to a boy. Though his age was listed at twenty-two, the face had failed to grow a beard, only stray hairs here and there, and the pug nose made him more childlike. „So the kid OD’d, right?“
Dr. Slope nodded. „The test results won’t be in for a while. But I don’t think there’ll be any surprises.“
„The arrow wound was made after death,“ said Mallory.
„If you’re going to do your own autopsies, why bother me?“ Dr. Slope handed her the clipboard. „Cause of death – overdose of a longtime user. But you knew that too, didn’t you?“ He turned the corpse’s arm to show her the needle marks inside the elbows. „I found older tracks on the soles of his feet and behind his knees. He was probably hiding the addiction until those veins gave out. I’d say he’s been a needle away from dying for a long time.“
„So there’s no way this could be murder.“ Riker pulled out his notebook.
„Definitely not.“ Slope was somewhat irritated, perhaps because this was also something that Mallory already knew. „No sign of a struggle, no bruising or defensive wounds. And his last needle puncture is consistent with injection by his own hand. He’s probably the only one who could’ve found a good vein in that arm.“
„What about AIDS?“ Riker’s pen hovered over a clean page, though he doubted there would be anything worth writing down. „Maybe a suicidal overdose?“
„No,“ said Slope. „I’m guessing he came into money recently. The heroin was a good grade. He was probably accustomed to cut-down drugs laced with crap. Help me roll him.“
Riker pocketed his useless pen and notebook, then pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, not wanting to touch the dead flesh. He had levels of squeamishness that depended on the freshness of a corpse, and this one was way past ripe. Why couldn’t Mallory do this? It was her damn junkie.
When the corpse lay facedown, the marking on the upper back was exposed. It was a uniform pattern of crisscrossing lines within the hard edge of a rectangle.
„Now these marks are postmortem,“ said Slope. „But made close to the time of death and before the body was moved. Might be a metal grate for a floor vent. You match that pattern and you’ll know where he died. I figure the body was moved at least twenty-four hours after death.“
„So the only criminal charge would be mutilation of a corpse,“ said Riker. „That’s it?“
„That’s the one odd note.“ Slope handed Mallory the arrow, bagged and tagged as evidence. „The chest was punctured days after the boy died. An accidental death staged as a murder – I call that interesting.“
„I call it misdirection,“ said Mallory. „Why don’t we sit on the autopsy findings for a few days?“
„Fine. You get me some paperwork to make that legal, and we’ll talk about it.“
„It might take a few days to get the paperwork.“
„Right.“ Slope threw up his hands. „So, is this at all helpful? Or was I wasting my time here?“
„Nothing I can really use,“ said Mallory. „But you might help me with something else. What can you tell me about cluster strokes?“
„Save me some time,“ said Slope. „What don’t you already know?“
„It’s Malakhai.“
And now she had the doctor’s attention. He was as startled as Riker.
„It’s been going on for a year,“ she said. „Every time he has a stroke, a little piece of his brain dies, memories are destroyed. I know they’re happening faster now. I need to know how much time I’ve got before he dies or his brain is wiped.“
„I’m sorry to hear that.“ The doctor pushed the steel bed back into the wall and closed the door. „If he’s on medication, he might last awhile without dramatic impairment. I can’t tell you the date when any man is going to die. Could be tomorrow or next year. But one day, there’ll be a massive stroke. What he’s going through now probably isn’t that debilitating – missing time, minutes or hours. Dexterity and motor skills won’t be affected. Not his intellect either – no dementia. Dates and specific memories are most susceptible to loss.“
„And people?“
„He might not recognize certain people from his past. It depends on the severity of the strokes.“
Riker looked at his shoes, hoping to hide his surprise from Slope – and the humiliation. What else might Mallory be holding out on him?
„Right now, he’s only having small strokes,“ said Mallory. „Could he have committed a recent murder and then forgotten it?“
„It’s possible,“ said Slope. „But unlikely at this stage. It’s not like Alzheimer’s. Usually the present remains intact, and the distant memories go first. But you were the one who told Malakhai how his wife was murdered. Doesn’t that preclude a revenge motive before the poker game?“
Riker was angry, for he had not been privy to this information either. He tried to catch her eye.
Mallory pointedly ignored her partner, turning her face away, speaking only to Slope. „Malakhai already knew how his wife died. Maybe he didn’t have all the details, but he knew she didn’t bleed to death from a shoulder wound. He’s seen more corpses than you have. And he’s had worse wounds than Louisa’s.“
Dr. Slope shook his head. „Why would he wait more than fifty years for revenge?“
She didn’t notice that Riker was edging away from her. „I don’t know.“ Mallory was staring at the locker that housed her junkie. „But that body was a prime piece of misdirection.“ She held up a small green velvet bag. Riker recognized it as the one Charles had given her when he showed her the key rod from Faustine’s Magic Theater.
She handed it to the doctor. „Look familiar?“
Slope examined the embroidered F. „It’s just like the one we found on Oliver Tree’s body.“
„We?“ asked Riker, hoping that Slope was referring to his assistants. „Did I miss something here? There was an autopsy for an accident victim?“
Slope lowered his glasses. „A violent accident, and very high-profile. Sure we had a look at the body. No cutting. Nothing fancy. Mallory was the only cop who bothered to show up for it. She didn’t tell you?“
„Must’ve slipped her mind.“ Riker slumped against a locker, feeling suddenly wasted.