Fresh Disasters

46

Stone sat in his office, his cheek pressed against the smooth, walnut desktop, snoring slightly. A voice came from afar.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Mmmmff,” he replied.

The voice came close to his ear. “Here’s coffee, very strong.”

“Bllllfff,” he replied.

“Wake up!” Joan shouted.

Stone sat straight up, blinking. Joan nudged the steaming cup of coffee closer.

“Either drink this and start making money, or go upstairs and go back to bed. You’re no good to me asleep at your desk,” she said.

“Right,” Stone said. He picked up the coffee cup and sipped it, burning his tongue. Down the hall the doorbell rang, the outside office door.

“I’m awake,” he said.

“We’ll see. Drink more coffee.”

Stone blew on it and sipped again. “I swear I’m awake. See who’s at the door.”

Joan sauntered down the hall toward the outside door. She was back in a flash. “Call Dino,” she said.

“Why?”

“There’s a box on the doorstep and nobody outside.”

“What kind of box?”

“Pretty big box,” she said, holding out her arms to indicate the size. “No return address or shipping form that I can see. Looks like it was hand delivered.”

Stone picked up the phone and pressed a speed-dial button.

“Bacchetti.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, rough night?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Everything I heard from you and Dierdre last night leads me to believe that you both had a rough night. Or was that just a lot of talk?”

“Rough night,” Stone said, “but maybe not as rough as this morning.”

“Clear that up for me,” Dino replied.

“There’s a box on my doorstep, no return address or shipping label, probably hand delivered.”

“How big?”

“Bigger than a bread box.”

“Don’t touch it.”

“You think you have to tell me that?”

“I’ll get our people over there pronto.”

“If it goes up in the street, people could get hurt.”

“I’ll tell them to finish their doughnuts quickly.”

“Thank you.”

“And you and Joan go upstairs.”

“Okay.”

“Right now.”

“All right!” He hung up. “We’re going upstairs,” he said to Joan, but she was already headed that way. Then, as he started up the stairs, he had an awful thought.

Dino sat with them, sipping his coffee. Nobody was saying much. “You don’t think it’s a bomb, do you?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Stone replied. “I think murder by car or hunting knife is more his style.”

A heavily equipped cop appeared in the doorway. “It’s not a bomb,” he said.

“Dino,” Stone said, “I think you’d better get a forensics team over here.”

“What’s in the box?” Dino asked the man.

“An aluminum case,” the man said, “the kind you carry camera equipment in.”

“How do you know it doesn’t contain a bomb?”

“I X-rayed it, then I opened it.”

“What did the case contain?”

“I think you’d better get a forensics team over here,” the cop said, then he left the room.

Dino opened his cell phone and pressed a button. “This is Bacchetti; it’s not a bomb. I want a forensics team and the medical examiner over here pronto.” He closed the phone. “You want to go see it?”

“I’ve already seen it,” Stone said. “I liked it where it was before.”

They all got up and went downstairs. The bomb squad had moved the box and the aluminum case into Stone’s office hallway. The cop stood in the door. “I don’t think we’re needed here anymore. Good luck.” He closed the door, and a moment later, the squad’s truck pulled away from its position in front of a fire plug.

The three of them stood and gazed at the aluminum case.

“There’s got to be fingerprints on that, right?” Joan asked.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Stone said. “I wouldn’t expect fibers or DNA, either.”

Dino shook his head. “Right. At least, no DNA that would be of any use to us.”

“I need a drink,” Joan said.

“It’s eleven thirty in the morning,” Stone pointed out.

“If I don’t have a drink, I’ll faint,” she said.

“You know where the bar is.”

Joan disappeared upstairs.

“Funny thing is, I feel pretty much the same way,” Stone said.

“Me, too,” Dino echoed.

“I’m not going to have one, though.”

“Me, neither.”

“And I’m not going to faint.”

“Me, neither.”

“I may throw up, though,” Stone added.

“It’s your rug.”

Stone sat down in one of the waiting-room chairs and put his head between his legs.

A moment later, the doorbell rang, and Dino went to answer it. He came back with four people wearing latex gloves.

“This it?” a man in a green lab coat asked.

“Yeah. You other guys start with the box outside.”

“You stay,” the M.E. said to the one who had cameras.

“Don’t touch the case any more than you have to,” Dino said.

“No kidding?” the M.E. said sarcastically.

“Sorry.”

The M.E. took out a pocket dictator and switched it on. He knelt beside the aluminum case and used a tape measure. “The object is inside an aluminum camera case with the trade name Halliburton affixed to it.” He recited the measurements of the container, then he flipped open the securing catches and opened the case. A small cloud of some sort was released.

He continued to dictate. “The case contains the human head of a female Caucasian; the hair is dark brown. The head is frozen and is packed in dry ice.” There was a rattling noise. “On lifting the head from the case I observe that it is wearing cosmetic makeup and the hair is neatly coiffed.” There was the rattling noise again. “I am returning the head to the case and closing it,” he said, snapping the case shut.

The M.E. stood up. “As soon as they’ve processed the exterior of the case I’ll take it to the morgue, and we’ll try to get a cause of death for you.”

“I think you’ll find,” Stone said, “that the cause of death is exsanguination as the result of a severed carotid artery and jugular vein, and that the implement used was a large, partly serrated hunting knife wielded by an enraged male unsub.”

“That’s pretty good,” the M.E. said.

“I’m quoting another doctor,” Stone replied. “The rest of her is in the custody of the M.E. of Morris County, New Jersey. The detective in charge is Lieutenant Charles Sample of Morristown.”

A tech came in and went to work on the aluminum case.

“Come on,” Dino said to Stone, “I’ll buy you some lunch.”

Stone stood up. “I’ll watch you eat,” he said.