informal. It was taking less and less time to move from “a person has been murdered” to “let’s solve this puzzle.” I wasn’t sure this was a good thing, but if there was a chance that Nina Martin was linked to any of the Galiganis, I’d have to put off examining my conscience until after I investigated.
I looked at Matt and smiled. “Well, I’m going to not wait with you.”
CHAPTER SIX
M C wanted to stay in bed forever. She’d slept badly, waking up often, each time fighting back tears at the image of the young woman’s body on the morgue table.
MC had liked Mary Roderick, or Nina Martin, or whatever her real name was. She was older than MC’s other students, and seemed to really connect with her. She’d told MC her birth name was Maria Rodriguez, that she’d changed it to Roderick to sound more American, even though she loved her Mexican family and sent them money whenever she could. MC thought of Mary/ Maria/Nina’s familiar Houston Oilers cap, barely covering her wild, jet-black hair, and how her sparkling dark eyes brought life to the old, badly maintained classroom at Houston Poly.
The police had asked MC to make a secondary ID, since her name was on the Galigani Mortuary card. MC had wanted to go down there anyway. She had to be sure it was really Mary. Maria. Nina. They were saying that the woman must have enrolled in MC’s class as part of an undercover job, that she was a private detective, and maybe even worked for the FDA. Very unsettling, when you thought you’d been close to someone, to find out you didn’t even know who they really were. Like with Jake, she thought, in some ways.
MC flipped over onto her back and blew out a breath so harsh it hurt her cheeks. I’m a Galigani, she told herself. I grew up around dead bodies; I am not freaked out by death . An image came to her mind—her father in the prep room downstairs, inserting thin brass
wires into the jaws of an old man, to bring his teeth together; shaping his mouth with cotton into a slight smile. She’d been fascinated watching him, not frightened at all.
She’d gotten used to the sound of the hearse in the middle of the night, and the nasty odors that her mother tried valiantly to cover up. I couldn’t have hated them too much , MC thought, since I chose a field with its own pukey smells. She remembered sneaking down to the prep room whenever she could while her father was working on a body. She’d watch him cutting, sewing, stuffing, painting, and weighing things she couldn’t identify at the time.
But none of those bodies was real to her. She realized later that her parents deliberately kept her from the basement when she’d known the deceased.
This woman, Nina Martin, had been her student, or at least pretended to be her student, and was way too young to die.
The class MC taught was almost a throwaway at Houston Poly, basic chemistry for liberal arts majors. Most of the students couldn’t care less about science, choosing the class for convenience—they needed a science class to graduate, and this one happened to be on a night when they were free.
But Nina, a pre-law student—or so she’d said—had been so conscientious, seeming truly turned on by state-of-the-art chemistry, especially nanotechnology.
MC pushed herself into an upright position on her bed, Aunt G’s bed, really, except that MC had added a little color to the décor, splashing some blue and purple floral pillows here and there over Aunt G’s stark bed linens. It was time to move off these pillows. She pulled off her favorite stretch-pants-cum-pajamas, shook out a pair of chinos from a basket in the corner, and selected a white shirt she had actually ironed. This was the best the RPD was going to get. She was due at the police station, to talk about Nina, though she couldn’t imagine what she could tell them. She’d racked her brain already trying to figure what Nina was doing in Revere in the first place.
She remembered the day Nina
I looked at Matt and smiled. “Well, I’m going to not wait with you.”
CHAPTER SIX
M C wanted to stay in bed forever. She’d slept badly, waking up often, each time fighting back tears at the image of the young woman’s body on the morgue table.
MC had liked Mary Roderick, or Nina Martin, or whatever her real name was. She was older than MC’s other students, and seemed to really connect with her. She’d told MC her birth name was Maria Rodriguez, that she’d changed it to Roderick to sound more American, even though she loved her Mexican family and sent them money whenever she could. MC thought of Mary/ Maria/Nina’s familiar Houston Oilers cap, barely covering her wild, jet-black hair, and how her sparkling dark eyes brought life to the old, badly maintained classroom at Houston Poly.
The police had asked MC to make a secondary ID, since her name was on the Galigani Mortuary card. MC had wanted to go down there anyway. She had to be sure it was really Mary. Maria. Nina. They were saying that the woman must have enrolled in MC’s class as part of an undercover job, that she was a private detective, and maybe even worked for the FDA. Very unsettling, when you thought you’d been close to someone, to find out you didn’t even know who they really were. Like with Jake, she thought, in some ways.
MC flipped over onto her back and blew out a breath so harsh it hurt her cheeks. I’m a Galigani, she told herself. I grew up around dead bodies; I am not freaked out by death . An image came to her mind—her father in the prep room downstairs, inserting thin brass
wires into the jaws of an old man, to bring his teeth together; shaping his mouth with cotton into a slight smile. She’d been fascinated watching him, not frightened at all.
She’d gotten used to the sound of the hearse in the middle of the night, and the nasty odors that her mother tried valiantly to cover up. I couldn’t have hated them too much , MC thought, since I chose a field with its own pukey smells. She remembered sneaking down to the prep room whenever she could while her father was working on a body. She’d watch him cutting, sewing, stuffing, painting, and weighing things she couldn’t identify at the time.
But none of those bodies was real to her. She realized later that her parents deliberately kept her from the basement when she’d known the deceased.
This woman, Nina Martin, had been her student, or at least pretended to be her student, and was way too young to die.
The class MC taught was almost a throwaway at Houston Poly, basic chemistry for liberal arts majors. Most of the students couldn’t care less about science, choosing the class for convenience—they needed a science class to graduate, and this one happened to be on a night when they were free.
But Nina, a pre-law student—or so she’d said—had been so conscientious, seeming truly turned on by state-of-the-art chemistry, especially nanotechnology.
MC pushed herself into an upright position on her bed, Aunt G’s bed, really, except that MC had added a little color to the décor, splashing some blue and purple floral pillows here and there over Aunt G’s stark bed linens. It was time to move off these pillows. She pulled off her favorite stretch-pants-cum-pajamas, shook out a pair of chinos from a basket in the corner, and selected a white shirt she had actually ironed. This was the best the RPD was going to get. She was due at the police station, to talk about Nina, though she couldn’t imagine what she could tell them. She’d racked her brain already trying to figure what Nina was doing in Revere in the first place.
She remembered the day Nina
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