control his temper.
“You’re not looking for an injured man,” Lopez said with forced patience.
“We’re not?”
“Take a good look at that hand. It wasn’t recently attached to anyone living .”
“Oh?” Thompson said.
I looked up to see the young cop bending over the hand, studying it curiously as he trained his flashlight on it.
His partner stood a few feet away and squinted at the appendage, clearly reluctant to get any closer to it. I suspected that squeamishness was a bit of a handicap in his profession.
Lopez continued, “And if a hand had been torn off someone’s arm here, there would be blood. Plenty of it.”
“Oh. Right,” said the chubby cop. “I knew that.”
Thompson squatted down to get an even better look at the hand. “So you’re saying this came off a corpse?”
“Yes,” Lopez said.
“Hmm. Any idea how old?”
“Probably a few days. Less than a few weeks.”
“How can you tell?” Thompson asked curiously. “Especially now that it’s partly eaten?”
The other cop made a sound.
“No decomposition,” Lopez said. “It looks fresh, and it doesn’t stink.”
I swallowed my revulsion.
Still absorbed in his study of the mangled body part, Thompson said, “But what if—”
“Call it in,” Lopez ordered again. “I’m going to put Miss Diamond in a cab, and then I’ll be back.” He added, “ Right back.”
The chubby cop said, “But we might need her statement.”
“You’ve got her statement,” Lopez said tersely, turning me away from the scene. “Let’s go.”
As soon as we were out of earshot, I said to him, “So I did see . . . see . . . Uh, what did I see?”
With his arm around me as he hustled me toward Lexington Avenue, he said, “You saw exactly what we talked about. Only whoever pulled this stunt went way too far.”
“Well, yeah, ” I said. “They stole my purse!”
“They also desecrated a corpse.”
“Desecrated . . . Oh!” I realized what he was saying. “That hand! It was real. And it was from . . . from . . .”
“From someone’s body.” His voice was tense.
“Oh, yuck, ” I said with feeling.
“So where the hell is the rest of that person?” He sounded as if he was thinking aloud. “And who is it?”
“ Was, you mean?”
“Was,” he agreed.
“Do you think some jerk raided the morgue to add a disgusting touch of reality to this whole thing?”
“That’s one of the possibilities.”
“You really think some cops did this?” I asked, appalled now.
He shook his head. “I sure hope not. Scaring a woman alone in the dark and then stealing her purse was bad enough. But snatching body parts? And leaving a severed hand lying around on the sidewalk where any neighborhood kid might have found it in the morning, if you hadn’t insisted on searching the area now?” He said grimly, “There had better not be any cops involved.”
But now it bothered him, and he had to know for sure. So he was going to go back to where we’d found the severed hand and work the crime scene, whether or not the local cops wanted him there.
Given the late (or very early) hour, we had to wait a couple of minutes on the corner of Lexington before we saw a cab. I was exhausted, and Lopez was preoccupied, so we didn’t talk. Then, in response to Lopez’s wave, a cab pulled up to take me home. The driver smirked when he saw Lopez hand me twenty dollars, which made me realize once again how I was dressed.
Lopez kissed me absently on the cheek and told me to go home and go to bed. “I’ll take care of this. And I’ll let you know if I find your purse. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I got into the cab. And he returned to the scene of the crime. Which is how he got involved.
So if I hadn’t called Lopez to come get me out of jail, then Baron Samedi, the Lord of Death, wouldn’t have come looking for him on the dark, windswept night of thunder, terror, and angry spirits that would soon follow.
5
I awoke to the pain of a stiff neck, the
“You’re not looking for an injured man,” Lopez said with forced patience.
“We’re not?”
“Take a good look at that hand. It wasn’t recently attached to anyone living .”
“Oh?” Thompson said.
I looked up to see the young cop bending over the hand, studying it curiously as he trained his flashlight on it.
His partner stood a few feet away and squinted at the appendage, clearly reluctant to get any closer to it. I suspected that squeamishness was a bit of a handicap in his profession.
Lopez continued, “And if a hand had been torn off someone’s arm here, there would be blood. Plenty of it.”
“Oh. Right,” said the chubby cop. “I knew that.”
Thompson squatted down to get an even better look at the hand. “So you’re saying this came off a corpse?”
“Yes,” Lopez said.
“Hmm. Any idea how old?”
“Probably a few days. Less than a few weeks.”
“How can you tell?” Thompson asked curiously. “Especially now that it’s partly eaten?”
The other cop made a sound.
“No decomposition,” Lopez said. “It looks fresh, and it doesn’t stink.”
I swallowed my revulsion.
Still absorbed in his study of the mangled body part, Thompson said, “But what if—”
“Call it in,” Lopez ordered again. “I’m going to put Miss Diamond in a cab, and then I’ll be back.” He added, “ Right back.”
The chubby cop said, “But we might need her statement.”
“You’ve got her statement,” Lopez said tersely, turning me away from the scene. “Let’s go.”
As soon as we were out of earshot, I said to him, “So I did see . . . see . . . Uh, what did I see?”
With his arm around me as he hustled me toward Lexington Avenue, he said, “You saw exactly what we talked about. Only whoever pulled this stunt went way too far.”
“Well, yeah, ” I said. “They stole my purse!”
“They also desecrated a corpse.”
“Desecrated . . . Oh!” I realized what he was saying. “That hand! It was real. And it was from . . . from . . .”
“From someone’s body.” His voice was tense.
“Oh, yuck, ” I said with feeling.
“So where the hell is the rest of that person?” He sounded as if he was thinking aloud. “And who is it?”
“ Was, you mean?”
“Was,” he agreed.
“Do you think some jerk raided the morgue to add a disgusting touch of reality to this whole thing?”
“That’s one of the possibilities.”
“You really think some cops did this?” I asked, appalled now.
He shook his head. “I sure hope not. Scaring a woman alone in the dark and then stealing her purse was bad enough. But snatching body parts? And leaving a severed hand lying around on the sidewalk where any neighborhood kid might have found it in the morning, if you hadn’t insisted on searching the area now?” He said grimly, “There had better not be any cops involved.”
But now it bothered him, and he had to know for sure. So he was going to go back to where we’d found the severed hand and work the crime scene, whether or not the local cops wanted him there.
Given the late (or very early) hour, we had to wait a couple of minutes on the corner of Lexington before we saw a cab. I was exhausted, and Lopez was preoccupied, so we didn’t talk. Then, in response to Lopez’s wave, a cab pulled up to take me home. The driver smirked when he saw Lopez hand me twenty dollars, which made me realize once again how I was dressed.
Lopez kissed me absently on the cheek and told me to go home and go to bed. “I’ll take care of this. And I’ll let you know if I find your purse. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I got into the cab. And he returned to the scene of the crime. Which is how he got involved.
So if I hadn’t called Lopez to come get me out of jail, then Baron Samedi, the Lord of Death, wouldn’t have come looking for him on the dark, windswept night of thunder, terror, and angry spirits that would soon follow.
5
I awoke to the pain of a stiff neck, the
Similar Books
