But apparently Gardner disagreed because she shut him down and then told him to take me with him to the morgue.
“Fine,” I said, finally, forcing an amiable smile. It wouldn’t hurt to try to get on his—well, not his good side, exactly. His less shitty side, maybe.
The first sign of trouble was when Morales strutted into the morgue as if it were an Old West saloon. “I’m looking for Thomas Franklin.”
If he’d had asked me, I might have warned him to take a cautious approach with the ME. But he didn’t ask, so I just hung back while he swung his dick around the man’s icebox.
The tall, African American man in question had been leaning over a body when Morales entered. Franklin slowly levered his tall body upright, pulled down his mask, and said, “Who the fuck are you?”
Morales stilled like the guy had spit at his feet. I covered my mouth with my hand. This was going to be fun.
“I’m Special Agent Drew Morales, MEA—”
“In case you’re blind as well as rude, I’m in the middle of an autopsy. Get out!”
“We called ahead.” Morales’s tone was cool, unruffled. “We’re here to see the body of—”
Franklin made a rude noise with his lips. “This ain’t the motherfuckin’ Red Lobster, son. You can’t make a reservation. First come”—he pointed a goo-covered, gloved hand down at the body—“first served. Bye now.”
I watched Morales closely, just waiting for him to lose it and threaten to shove that scalpel down Franklin’s piehole. Instead, the big guy relaxed his shoulders and lowered his tone. “The last thing we want is to inconvenience you. If you could simply point us to the proper drawer.”
My eyes pinged back and forth between the two men.
“You can’t view a body unattended.” Franklin sighed the sigh of the martyred. “You Feds are all alike. We got a backlog of bodies and you need me to take my assistant away from her work to babysit your bossy ass?”
Morales stared down the taller man. “You got a problem, you can take it up with my field supervisor, but we’re going in there.” He moved toward the doors.
Franklin started after him, “Hey!” But then he stopped because he finally noticed me lingering by the entrance. I waggled my fingers at him.
“Kate Prospero! I almost didn’t recognize you with that black eye.”
Morales stopped and turned slowly. His accusing glare burned my skin but I didn’t look at him. Instead, I smiled real wide at Franklin, ignoring the comment about my eye. “How’s it going, Franky baby?”
“Ah, you know.” He shrugged. “Motherfuckers keep dying so at least I got some job security.”
I laughed. “I hear ya.”
“Wait, what you doing with this one, Kate? You working a case? And what’s with the shiner? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”
“We’re tracking the source of that new blood potion.” I placed a hand to the eye I’d forgotten was still bruised. “This was courtesy of one of the stiffs you’ve got in there.” I jerked a thumb toward the door. “Speaking of,” I said, “could you do us a solid and let us take a gander at Marvin Brown’s body? He just came in but we won’t disturb him too much.”
Franklin pursed his lips and glanced at Morales, like he was weighing the other man’s character. Morales shifted on his feet.
Just when I was convinced Franklin was going to start yelling again, he laughed instead. “Well, shiiit.” He dragged out the vowel like a match against a striker. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He pointed a dripping hand toward a set of swinging doors. “Body’s through there. Knock on Janet’s door on your way. She’ll help you.”
The tension escaped the room. “That would be great, thanks.” Morales flashed a tight smile, like he didn’t really trust Franklin’s expected one-eighty to last long enough to get results.
He turned and loomed toward the doors like a thunderhead. Franklin turned to me and winked. “Have fun with that.”
“You’re a bad man, Franky.”
He shrugged. “I spend my days collecting the human waste of this fucking city, Prospero. I gotta get my laughs where I can.” We both paused as the truth of those words sank in. Then, as if breaking a spell, he clapped his gloved hands together. “All right, get on with ya. I gotta remove a bullet from this poor asshole’s trachea.”
I glanced at the body. The vic was a white male, probably early forties. His skin was blue and he’d been cut from sternum to pelvis. Franklin had closed the guy’s eyes, but the gaping mouth caught my attention. Fuck me if it didn’t look like he was silently screaming.
* * *
As if she’d been invoked magically, Janet was already waiting for us in the room. She had her trusty clipboard at the ready and quickly found the locker containing the mortal remains of one Marvin Brown. She opened the door, pulled out the drawer, and turned on her heel.
“Humph.” She pushed her spectacles back up her overly large nose. No “Let me know if you need anything else” or even a good-bye. She just walked back into her office. A large window over her desk ensured she could see everything we did. However, the instant she sat down she began tackling the mountain of file folders covering the desk’s surface.
“Charming,” Morales said. He paused a beat and then turned toward me. “Thanks for making me look like an asshole out there.”
I bit my lip. “You didn’t need my help for that.” Okay, so maybe I wasn’t so hot at getting on people’s not-shitty sides.
His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he sighed. “Just grab a slide, will ya?” He pointed to the black duffel he’d carried in from the car.
“What’s the hurry, Morales?” I said. “Feeling woozy?” I said this despite the fact that I always had nightmares about rotting slabs of pork for days after I visited the morgue.
“Not at all,” he said. “I just have real police work to do. We’re not going to find jack shit on this body linking this murder to Volos.”
The problem was, I totally agreed with him. Even if he’d killed the guy himself, Volos was too smart to leave evidence. “Then why are we here?”
“Gardner.” He might as well have said God’s name.
While I rummaged for the slides in the black bag, he started examining Brown. “What’s your story with Volos?”