“Spooks aren’t the only ones who can be covert. That was me telling Nadine to break the story that Blair Bissel was HSO, with a few selected details to confirm and expand upon. We’re going to see whose ass is red by the end of the day.”
“Roarke’s not going to be the only one who’s really pissed.”
“Thanks.” Eve managed a weak smile. “That makes me feel considerably better.”
Morris had done exactly as instructed. Because it took ten full minutes to clear her and Peabody into the morgue, she decided he was more than a little annoyed. He admitted them personally, then led the way through the chilly white tunnel toward the autopsy and viewing rooms.
“What time did you get here this morning?” Eve asked his rigid back.
“Around seven. Early, as I was doing a cop a favor, or had intended to do one by coming in ahead of schedule and running tests on Bissel to see if he’d had any recent facial enhancements or sculpting. I got coffee and reviewed my previous notes on the case, then came down here, about seven-fifteen.”
He used his pass and a voice command to open the secured doors on one of the storage/viewing areas.
“Was this door locked?”
“It was.”
“I’ll have Crime Scene check it for tampering,” Peabody said.
“Bissel’s slot was empty,” Morris continued, and approached the wall of stainless steel refrigerator drawers. He opened one and it let out a whoosh of air and chilly white vapor. “Initially I was annoyed, assuming he’d been moved or misfiled, so I checked the last log-in, which verified he’d been stored properly. I called the AME, Marlie Drew, who was on the night shift. She was still here as she wouldn’t end shift until eight. She had no record of anyone entering this area, adding or removing anything.”
“I’ll need to speak with her.”
“She’s in her office, waiting. We ran a thorough search. His data is still here, his body is not.”
“How many bodies do you have in at this time?”
“Twenty-six. Four came in last night. There was a vehicular accident logged in at two-twenty.”
“You’ve checked all storage areas?”
Insult flashed over his face. “Dallas, this isn’t my first day on the job. When I tell you a body isn’t here, it isn’t here.”
“Okay. So you only had twenty-two before the new ones checked in at two-twenty?”
“No, we had twenty-three. Two were scheduled for disposal—city expense. Two sidewalk sleepers, unclaimed.”
“Disposal.”
Now, fresh irritation layered over the insult and made his voice an icy slash. “You know the damn drill. Unclaimed, indigent, the city cremates after forty-eight hours. We deal with them during the night shift, send them out to a crematorium.”
“Who goes with them?”
“Driver and orderly.” Because he saw where she was heading, he set his teeth. “They wouldn’t have taken Bissel by mistake, if that’s what you’re thinking. We don’t run a damn comedy hour around here. It’s serious and sensitive work to care for the dead.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, Morris.” Her own temper was beginning to fray as she stepped up to and into his face. “But Bissel’s not here, so let’s go through the steps.”
“Fine. There’s a staging area. Bodies slated for transfer and disposal would be logged out from storage—and the records checked—by the AME on duty, and those records would be cross-checked to avoid any mistakes. The transfer team would take them to the staging area, log them out through another series of checks. This isn’t a matter of someone mistakenly slating Bissel for disposal and leaving one of the city jobs behind. I’ve got a damn body missing. The count’s wrong.”
“I’m not thinking it was a mistake. Contact the crematorium first. See how many they did for you last night. And I want the names of the ones who transported the bodies. Are they still on site?”
“Different shifts.” Looking more worried than angry now, Morris led the way out, resecured the door. “They’d have been off by six.” He walked quickly toward his office. He called up the previous night’s schedule even as he engaged his ’link.
“Powell and Sibresky. I know both these men. They’re big on jokes but they’re efficient. They’re careful. This is Chief Medical Examiner Morris,” he said into the ’link. “I need to verify a delivery for disposal, city contract, made early this morning.”
“One moment please, Dr. Morris, I’ll connect you with Receiving.”
“Does anybody but me think this is kind of sick?” Peabody wondered. “I mean, Receiving. Yuck.”