Water Dictatorship Part 2

Yeah, okay." Billy shrugged. "Just don't spill coffee on my originals, okay?"

Angelo scooped up the file and walked out of the morgue and into the hallways of the Los Angeles County Hospital. Angelo took his badge on it's leather holder and stuck it in his pocket like he used to wear his LAPD badge. Most people were not observant enough to realize that it wasn't a normal badge for L.A.

Angelo took the file on Randi's death up two flights to the administration office and used a photocopier there to make duplicates of the files. Randi's liver had not been examined. It probably wouldn't be. Everything looked as accidental as could be. Angelo was deep in thought as he returned to the morgue with the file.

Angelo had to admit to himself that it seemed accidental. It just didn't feel right. It didn't seem in character for Randi to pop pills, but who could really tell. It had been fifteen years. People change.

Angelo walked into Billy's office. "Billy, may I look at the body?"

"Sure, Angelo. Right back here." Billy led the way back to the refrigerated boxes that held the dead bodies. Angelo was familiar with the place. He'd been there a lot to visit the dead. Part of Angelo's mind was all business, there was nothing here that he hadn't seen before. Another part of mind was wrestling with the idea that it was Randi.

Billy pulled door number twenty three. The body rolled out on it's shelf. She was covered by a sheet. Billy swept the sheet back. Angelo was struck by how still and empty Randi's body looked. As if the essential ingredients of Randi weren't there.

The businesslike portion of his mind took over and cataloged the damage that the body sustained. There was heavy trauma to the head. A touch here and there confirmed it. Her skull was broken. There were a couple of bruises on her face, near the mouth and on the eye.

"Hmm." Angelo thought. He examined Randi's wrists. They were bruised. The knuckles on Randi's right hand were sc.r.a.ped raw.

"Do these look like defense wounds to you?" Angelo asked.

"Fer Christ's sake, Angelo, she rolled down a cliff in a car without her seat belt. Those might be defense wounds, and they might be road rash, Okay? There's no way to say for sure." Billy sighed.

"How'd the secobarbital get into her system?" Angelo asked.

"Right here. She shot it." Billy pointed out a pin p.r.i.c.k hole on Randi's right arm.

"In her right arm?" Angelo asked. "She was right handed. That doesn't make sense."

"Hey, you're the detective here. I just bag 'em and tag 'em." Billy said.

Angelo gave Billy a hard look.

"All right, all right, I'll put 'em in the report. The coroner will have to look at 'em then." Billy said.

"Thanks." Angelo said.

There was a knock from the front desk. Some one who didn't know Billy was there.

Billy and Angelo walked out to the front desk of the morgue. John Marlowe was there. He looked just like his pictures in the weekly news magazines. There was a shorter bald man with him.

"Which one of you is the attendant?" Marlowe said. Angelo noted that he looked calm and self possessed.

"You're Mr. Marlowe, right? I'm Billy Alcott, the a.s.sistant medical examiner, here." Billy didn't reach out to shake. He'd worked in the morgue for too long.

"Who are you?" Marlowe asked Angelo.

"I'm Angelo Mancuso." Angelo introduced himself.

"And what are you doing here?" Marlowe asked.

"He's the detective on your wife's case." Billy said. "You won't find a better detective in L.A., Mr. Marlowe. If there's any thing unusual about your wife's death, then you can rest a.s.sured that Angelo here will track it down."

Angelo could feel his face get hot. "It's really just a routine inquiry, Sir. Just standard procedure." It was the basic rea.s.surance given to loved ones during the opening phase of the investigation.

"Well, I'm sorry to take up your time like this officer. I told Randi to lay off the pills, but..." Marlowe seemed distracted.

"May I see your identification, please, Officer?" The other man said.

"Who are you?" Angelo asked.

"I'm Ira Johnson, Mr. Marlowe's legal council." The man introduced himself. He didn't offer to shake either.

Angelo gulped and handed his identification to the lawyer. Johnson read it. "I see. And what interest does Vista City have in Mrs. Marlowe?"

"Huh?" Billy asked.

"If you'll look carefully at Detective Mancuso's badge, you'll find that it is not an LAPD badge, Mr. Alcott." Johnson said.

"Isn't Vista City way up north of San Francisco?" Marlowe asked.

"Yes, Sir." Angelo said. "I'm not here in an official capacity. I knew Randi Aiken personally some time ago. I was curious about the circ.u.mstances of her death."

"Aw, Angelo!" Billy cried. He could see his job and all the perks and benefits he had worked for over the last eight years flying away. "Aw man!"

"This is highly irregular, Detective. Possibly unethical." Johnson said. "I suggest you secure a lawyer, immediately." Johnson almost had a smile on his face. His eyes were glittering.

"Johnson, not now." Marlowe said. "I'm sorry. Angelo, isn't it?"

"I apologize, Sir." Angelo said.

"Not at all. I understand. Randi had a magnetic personality. We'll have to get together sometime and you can tell me where you knew Randi from. She never mentioned you." Marlowe reached out and shook Angelo's hand.

"Well, ah, I'll just be going, now." Angelo said.

"That would be wise." Johnson said.

Angelo turned and began to walk away.

"Don't forget your papers." Billy said. He shot Angelo a hard look.

Angelo scooped up the photocopies of the death reports. He met Billy's eyes, but didn't say anything. He promised himself that if Billy was fired or sued then he'd make it better. Having rich parents was very handy at times. But could they buy Billy a new sense of trust?

"For your sake, Detective, I hope those aren't about Mrs. Marlowe. That would be a tragedy." Johnson warned.

"No , Sir, not at all." Angelo said. He left the morgue.

Angelo checked into the Hilton Airport on Century Boulevard just down the road from the airport. He settled into the generic room and spread the death report around the desk. Randi's death was probably an accident, he told himself. After ten years as a professional homicide detective, Angelo knew that there were always loose ends that didn't really fit. It was the nature of the beast. People were never entirely consistent. In death they left inconsistencies scattered around their bodies like the rest of their belongings.

It simply didn't feel right. Angelo couldn't decide if it was his instincts or his emotions nagging him. He'd never really settled his feelings for Randi. Now, would he ever?