and the four of us can go to the party together."
"Are you sure Mary won't mind?" Katherine asked.
"Why should she?" Bart replied. "As long as she's out of the house having a good time, I could bring a walrus home and she wouldn't mind."
I held Steve up high and smiled at him. "Are you a walrus? Is that what you are?"
He giggled uproariously and then vomited all over me. My shirt and lab coat were covered. Bart burst out laughing and Katherine joined him. Even Steve thought it was funny, giggling so much I thought he might vomit on me again just for the fun of it. I was the only one not laughing because I was the only one who knew I was wearing my last clean shirt and lab coat.
I handed Steve back to Katherine, picked up a napkin, and began the hopeless task of cleaning myself off.
"That will teach you to call Steve a walrus," Katherine said. "He's very sensitive."
"So I've discovered." I went over to Katherine. "Thank you so much for coming."
"Do you really mean it?"
"Of course I do," I said.
"Even after what Steve did?" she said.
"A small price to pay for the chance to spend some time with you," I said.
Katherine glanced at Bart. "You're a good influence on him."
"I'm a good influence on everybody," he said.
"I better go clean up before Dr. Whittington sees me," I leaned down to kiss Katherine. I could still smell the faintest hint of fresh flowers.
Suddenly I felt a jolt of fear, the same flutter in my chest I'd experienced when I saw the dead woman who was pulled from the Los Angeles River.
"What is it?" Katherine asked, studying my face. "What's wrong?"
The fear passed quickly, but that nagging sensation, that mental itch, returned. I sniffed Katherine again.
"What is that smell?" I asked.
"Vomit," she said.
"I mean on you," I said. "The flowers?"
"It's probably my bath oil," she said. "Why?"
I thought back to the dead woman, but the image that came to me wasn't her entire body laid out on the gurney. It wasn't even her face. It was little, seemingly inconsequential details. The tan line around her wrist. Her pierced ears. The seam of her stockings. I was remembering things I didn't realize I'd even seen.
I knew why I was jerked back when I saw the dead woman.
She smelled like my wife .
I was beginning to understand what that nagging feeling meant and why I'd felt afraid. But there was only one way to find out if I was right.
I reassured Katherine that everything was fine, then hurried to the locker room, washed up, and changed into a pair of surgical scrubs before making my way down to the morgue.
The woman's body was on a gurney in the cold room with a dozen other corpses, patients of all ages who had died of all kinds of ailments. Most of the bodies had been stripped and cleaned and were ready to be picked up by morticians. But the woman from the river was exactly as we had left her, still in her muddy clothes, waiting to be claimed by the medical examiner for her autopsy.
I wheeled her out of the cold room and into the light of the pathology lab.
She wasn't a corpse anymore. She was a puzzle.
I put on a pair of gloves and sniffed her. Although she was covered with mud, the smell of bath oil was strong. Her blouse must have been soaked with it; the river water hadn't managed to overcome the scent.
She was tan and fit, with perfect proportions, long legs, and an even tan. She spent a lot of time outdoors, probably at the beach. She was a true California girl, though I couldn't figure out why she'd chosen to dye her hair red instead of blond.
I looked at her wrists, her fingers, and her ears.
I lifted her skirt and examined the garter belt, the straps stretched over her panties to her nylon stockings, the seams running up the sides of her legs from her heels to the middle of her thighs.
I knew at that moment with chilling certainty what it all meant, what my subconscious had been trying to tell me. And yet it only intensified my curiosity.
I rolled her on her side, pulled her blouse
"Are you sure Mary won't mind?" Katherine asked.
"Why should she?" Bart replied. "As long as she's out of the house having a good time, I could bring a walrus home and she wouldn't mind."
I held Steve up high and smiled at him. "Are you a walrus? Is that what you are?"
He giggled uproariously and then vomited all over me. My shirt and lab coat were covered. Bart burst out laughing and Katherine joined him. Even Steve thought it was funny, giggling so much I thought he might vomit on me again just for the fun of it. I was the only one not laughing because I was the only one who knew I was wearing my last clean shirt and lab coat.
I handed Steve back to Katherine, picked up a napkin, and began the hopeless task of cleaning myself off.
"That will teach you to call Steve a walrus," Katherine said. "He's very sensitive."
"So I've discovered." I went over to Katherine. "Thank you so much for coming."
"Do you really mean it?"
"Of course I do," I said.
"Even after what Steve did?" she said.
"A small price to pay for the chance to spend some time with you," I said.
Katherine glanced at Bart. "You're a good influence on him."
"I'm a good influence on everybody," he said.
"I better go clean up before Dr. Whittington sees me," I leaned down to kiss Katherine. I could still smell the faintest hint of fresh flowers.
Suddenly I felt a jolt of fear, the same flutter in my chest I'd experienced when I saw the dead woman who was pulled from the Los Angeles River.
"What is it?" Katherine asked, studying my face. "What's wrong?"
The fear passed quickly, but that nagging sensation, that mental itch, returned. I sniffed Katherine again.
"What is that smell?" I asked.
"Vomit," she said.
"I mean on you," I said. "The flowers?"
"It's probably my bath oil," she said. "Why?"
I thought back to the dead woman, but the image that came to me wasn't her entire body laid out on the gurney. It wasn't even her face. It was little, seemingly inconsequential details. The tan line around her wrist. Her pierced ears. The seam of her stockings. I was remembering things I didn't realize I'd even seen.
I knew why I was jerked back when I saw the dead woman.
She smelled like my wife .
I was beginning to understand what that nagging feeling meant and why I'd felt afraid. But there was only one way to find out if I was right.
I reassured Katherine that everything was fine, then hurried to the locker room, washed up, and changed into a pair of surgical scrubs before making my way down to the morgue.
The woman's body was on a gurney in the cold room with a dozen other corpses, patients of all ages who had died of all kinds of ailments. Most of the bodies had been stripped and cleaned and were ready to be picked up by morticians. But the woman from the river was exactly as we had left her, still in her muddy clothes, waiting to be claimed by the medical examiner for her autopsy.
I wheeled her out of the cold room and into the light of the pathology lab.
She wasn't a corpse anymore. She was a puzzle.
I put on a pair of gloves and sniffed her. Although she was covered with mud, the smell of bath oil was strong. Her blouse must have been soaked with it; the river water hadn't managed to overcome the scent.
She was tan and fit, with perfect proportions, long legs, and an even tan. She spent a lot of time outdoors, probably at the beach. She was a true California girl, though I couldn't figure out why she'd chosen to dye her hair red instead of blond.
I looked at her wrists, her fingers, and her ears.
I lifted her skirt and examined the garter belt, the straps stretched over her panties to her nylon stockings, the seams running up the sides of her legs from her heels to the middle of her thighs.
I knew at that moment with chilling certainty what it all meant, what my subconscious had been trying to tell me. And yet it only intensified my curiosity.
I rolled her on her side, pulled her blouse
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