Blue moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,56

he might even turn up something useful.
Chapter 23
"About time," Clyde muttered when I entered the morgue.

Since the drive from Miniwa to the hospital in Clear-water was forty minutes, I'd done the best I could, so I ignored him.

I'd flipped through Brad's notes as I'd walked in from the car. He'd done a decent job, though it wouldn't do Mel much good now. As I'd suspected, a reddish-brown wolf had bitten Mel. Since Mandenauer had already killed and burned the thing, the case would be closed - if Mel hadn't gone and died on us.

The morgue was bright with electric lights and shiny chrome. All the players were in place.

Clyde leaned against a counter, jaw ratcheting his chew like a mortar with a pestle. Bozeman was playing with his instruments - lining and realigning them on the pristine table. Anal, much?

As I wandered into the room, the door behind me opened and what must be a doctor, since he wore a white coat, walked in.

"You wanted to see me?"

Clyde pushed away from the counter. "What happened to Mel Gerard?"

"Got me. I followed the prescribed practice for rabies inoculation."

The doctor shook his head. His next words were low, near a mumble, almost as if he were going over it again in his head. And maybe he was. "But he started convulsing. Blood pressure skyrocketed. Cardiac arrest. Flat line. All in about five minutes."

"Allergic to the vaccine?"

"I don't think so."

"What, then?"

He shrugged and jerked a thumb at Bozeman. "Isn't that what he's supposed to find out?"

Clyde chewed faster, thinking long and hard before he nodded. "Thanks for your time, Doctor."

When the door closed again, Clyde turned to Bozeman, who was still playing with his toys. "Let's get on with this, Prescott. I've got things to do."

Bozeman sighed and yanked the sheet from the body. We all stared. The ME went pale. Clyde made a gagging sound and hacked his chew onto the floor. I took one step toward the door before I stopped myself.

I'd been at autopsies before. Seen a lot of dead bodies. But I'd never seen anything like this.

Mel's face was hideous. His nose was twisted, as if broken ten too many times. His lips were drawn back in a grimace; his teeth appeared to protrude. His eyes, open and staring, had bled nearly to black, with only a small rim of yellow around the edge.

Had Mel had yellow eyes? I think I would have remembered that.

"What the - ?"

I crept closer. Clyde stopped gagging and joined me.

The oddities didn't stop at Mel's face. His fingernails and toenails were unnaturally long. Fu Manchu had nothing on him. And his beard was longer and coarser than it should have been if he'd only shaved yesterday.

"A reaction to the rabies?" I asked.

"Or the vaccine," Clyde murmured. "But why didn't the doctor mention this?"

"He wasn't like this when he came in." Bozeman was still staring. He lifted his gaze from Mel to us. "I saw him. He was dead. But not like this."

"Rigor mortis?" I suggested.

"I've never seen rigor set in this fast or... or... " He waved a hand at the table. "This bad."

"That doesn't mean it couldn't."

"I suppose not." The ME went back to staring.

Clyde made an impatient sound. "Prescott, I need to know what happened before I talk to Cherry again.

That woman is sue-happy."

"Her and the rest of the known world," I muttered.

"Um, yes. I... uh - Yes," Bozeman managed. He went to work while Clyde and I watched. Not the most appealing pastime for a Saturday afternoon, but I'd done worse.

Bozeman muttered and mumbled, cut, measured, recorded. When he was done, his hands hung at his sides as he shook his head.

"I've never seen anything like this," he said. "Come here."

I didn't want to and I could tell Clyde was thinking of about a thousand other things he'd rather do, but we went. We looked and we listened. We learned.

"The spinal column is altered. Twisted as if it were... " Bozeman's voice trailed off. He appeared to be searching for a word but unable to find one.

"What?" Clyde snapped.

"Changing."

Oh, boy, I thought. That doesn't sound good.

"Changing how?" Clyde asked.

"I don't know. He's also got hair growing out of his back."

"Some guys do," I murmured.

"Not like Mel's." Bozeman manipulated the body. He was right.

The hair, long and blond, resembled fur, but how could that be?

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I have to do more tests." Bozeman continued to stare at the body as he talked to me. "Maybe send