dead bodies.
But apparently there’s one I have to see, so I put my hand on the cold steel handle and roll out bin A in the seventh column. It’s Sarco, all right. His mouth hangs open in that particular dead-guy way, rotten teeth jutting out in all kinds of unseemly directions. Ugh. And he’s naked, his pale skin even paler now and lacking in all the stretch and shine of life.
“Bled to death.”
“Jesus Christ!” I jump backward, reaching for my blade, before I realize it’s only Mortimer. The guy should really know better than to sneak up on a man in a morgue. Surely there’s some protocol about that.
“Odd case really.”
“Oh?” I say when I recover my composure.
“The EMTs were so used to bringing him in for some bullshit OD or another night of binge drinking, I think it caught ’em off guard that something was actually wrong with him.”
“That and he was bleeding out his eyes.”
“Well . . . yeah, that too.”
“Anything else?”
Mortimer digs in his lab coat pockets, retrieves a flask, and tugs on it brazenly, making loud guzzling noises. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth, smacks his lips a few times, and says: “Nope.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
They’re what?”
“That’s what they said.”
“But, Riley . . .” I let out a sigh that’s full of my dull hatred for the Council. Then I give up trying to finish the sentence, because Riley already knows what I was gonna say. “Fuck.”
“Word.”
We’re in the Burgundy Bar. I’m trying not to think about Dro not being here with us. I’m trying not to think about Sasha too. I had been getting good at that; she’s vanished as predicted, after all. But Sasha keeps creeping back into my thoughts.
“I’m so . . . ugh!” I don’t even give a fuck about all the surly drunks that’re making faces my way right now. Least of my damn concerns. That crazy guy in the corner? I’ll be that. I am that. I’m done pretending shit. “Riley. The fuck we gonna do?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“You need to consider the possibility that the dude done died and that’s what it is.”
“But I . . .”
“I know you don’t like it. But that’s what you looking at right now.”
“I said, I wouldn’t believe he was dead till I saw a body.”
“And?”
“And I saw the body and I still don’t believe he’s dead.”
“Well, the Council does. And they say there’s no record of him becoming a ghost or nothin’.”
“Like they never miss a spirit.”
“Right. Well, regardless. Case closed.”
“But no.” I down another shot. “No. We keep going.”
Riley does too. “Carlos, it doesn’t bother you that the homey checked out in damn near the same way your boy from New Year’s did?”
“It does. It does. Of course it does.”
“Well, what does that tell you?”
“That some sinister shit is at play.”
“No! Well, yes, but besides that . . .”
I put my head on the bar and then lift it up again. “Indeed. Quiñones, dos más por favor.”
“It tells you there’s someone else workin’ things. Pullin’ strings. A third party.”
“Fuck. Well, that’s not case closed then. It’s case wide the fuck open.”
“Right, but the Sarco chapter of the case is closed. Anyway,” Riley says languidly. The alcohol seethes through his words now. He pauses, squints up his face like he’s trying to remember what he was about to say.
“Anyway?” I drink my shot; he drinks his.
We both let out that satisfied, holy shit aaaah! noise, and then Riley goes: “Oh yeah, anyway, the Council wants to tell you about how they’re shuttin’ down your big case in person.”
I bust out laughing. Not really sure why. “When?”
“You were sposta be there about fifteen minutes ago.”
I stop laughing. “What?”
Now Riley’s cracking up. “They said ASAP about forty-five minutes back, so . . . I figure that means about twenty minutes later. So, yeah.”
“Who told you?”
“The little guy. Erfin. Orifice. Orifice Eddie.”
“Elton Ellis.”
“Right.”
“Why didn’t they just . . . ?”
“The system’s fucking down.”
I let out another exasperated sigh. “In so many more ways than one.”
There’s a somber pause, and then we both break out laughing again.
* * *
Botus seems unpleasantly victorious today. He doesn’t simmer in the shadows with the rest of the committee like at the last hearing. “Agent Delacruz,” he says, sliding forward so the bright overhead lights shine right through him and throw drastic shadows down his face. “How wonderful that you have recovered so well.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“We really quite enjoyed your report, although we were dismayed to see how much trouble you went through and, of course,