Better off Dead

Chapter 17

I screwed the note into a ball and tossed it into the trash. Peeled the fake bullet wound off my chest. Pulled the shirt Fenton had brought over my head. Crossed to the right-hand refrigerator door. The one where Dr. Houllier had stashed my clothes. Opened it and got dressed the rest of the way. And then retrieved my passport from his trash can.

“Where are you going?” Dr. Houllier said. “Wait a minute. What are you going to do about the woman? And Dendoncker?”

The way I saw it I had two choices. I could let Fenton go. Or I could try to find her. And I couldn’t see any point in finding her. I had no doubt she could handle herself when she was up against one old frail guy. Or numerous strong young guys, if that was how things shook out. I had no doubt she would do whatever she saw fit to stop Dendoncker’s bombs. She had the contacts. She just needed information. How she got it was up to her. Maybe she would cross a line. Maybe a whole bunch of lines. But that was her call. I wasn’t her conscience, and I wasn’t her priest. My nose was a little out of joint, the way she’d blindsided me. But at the same time I had to say, Nicely played. The truth was, I liked her. I wished her the best.

“I’m not going to do anything about either of them,” I said. “If Fenton wants to handle things from here, I’m happy to let her.”

“Oh.” Dr. Houllier scratched the side of his head. “Then, what about these apes? You can’t leave them on my floor. Especially not that big one. I treated him after one of his victims bit him and his arm got infected. He’s called Mansour. He’s a psychopath. What will he do when he wakes up and finds me? It’s obvious I helped you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take the trash out when I leave. You won’t see these guys again.”

I started with the guy Dr. Houllier had called Mansour. I checked his pants pocket and found what I was looking for straightaway. His keys. A big bunch on a plastic fob. With one kind in particular. A car key. The logo molded into the plastic grip said Lincoln. I hoped it was for a Town Car. They’re spacious vehicles. Plenty of room for passengers. Conscious or unconscious. Alive or dead. That fact was established almost immediately after the first model rolled off the production line. They’d been popular with people who appreciated that quality ever since. People like me, at that moment.

I figured I could tie the three guys up. Load them in. Dump the car. And call 911. I bet they all had pretty substantial records. Although I wasn’t impressed with the way the police had responded to my report of the bodies by The Tree. I hadn’t seen a single uniformed cop in the town. Or a detective. Or a crime scene truck. It made me think of a conversation I had recently with a guy in Texas. He had a theory. He said that in remote regions any officer sent to deal with something messy like a bunch of dead bodies must be on his boss’s bad side. Which meant he wouldn’t be looking to carry out a thorough investigation. He’d be looking to get the case closed, quickly and tidily. To get back in his boss’s good graces. And to make sure someone else would get sent the next time there was a problem out in the sticks.

Maybe the guy had been right. Maybe I’d be better off dumping the car somewhere farther away. At the side of the highway. Or in a bigger town. Or a city. I didn’t want to invite extra work. But I did want the right result. And on top of that, I was hungry. Making plans on an empty stomach is a bad idea. It can distort your priorities. I figured I should grab something to eat, then decide.

I said, “It’s been a busy morning. I could use some breakfast. Want to join me?”

Dr. Houllier pulled a face like he’d smelled something vile. “Eat? Now? No. No thank you. I couldn’t.”

I tried to slip Mansour’s keys into my pocket but the bunch got all snagged up. It was big. And heavy. When I tried to streamline it, one key in particular stood out. A mortise. It was similar to the ones the guys had been carrying yesterday.

I said, “Which place around here has the best coffee?”

Dr. Houllier blinked a few times. Then he shrugged. “You could try the Prairie Rose. I’ve heard theirs is good. Turn left out of the main exit. Walk a hundred yards. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.” I glanced around the room. “Have you got anything I could use to tie these guys up?”

Dr. Houllier thought for a moment. “Wait here. I have an idea.” Then he hurried out through the door.

I used the time to work my way through Mansour’s other pockets. I found his wallet. He had cash, but no ID. Nothing with an address. I tried his phone. It asked for a Face ID. I had no idea what that was but on a whim I held it level with the guy’s nose. After a second its screen unlocked. There was no record of any calls being received. Or made. There were no texts. And no contacts. Nothing to help me, so I took his gun and moved on to the guys in the suits. They had a similar range of stuff. Guns, wallets, phones, and keys. Including plastic fobs. And a mortise key. The keys were scuffed and scratched. I held them up next to one another. The teeth lined up. They were a perfect match. I tried Mansour’s. It matched just as well. I figured the keys must be connected to Dendoncker’s operation in some way. I was curious, but the question didn’t need to be answered. Dendoncker was at the wrong end of Fenton’s Glock. His crew was heading to jail. And I would be on my way out of town as soon as I had eaten.

The door swung open. There was no knock, but it was pushed gently this time. Dr. Houllier appeared in the gap. He was clutching a bunch of packages. They were identical. Wrapped in clear packaging. And they were slippery. He tried to pass one to me and the whole lot fell and went skittering across the floor. I helped him gather them up and saw they were crepe bandages. They each had a manufacturer’s logo and a sticker indicating their size. Four inches wide by five feet long.

“They’re elasticated,” Dr. Houllier said. “They’ll stretch, but they shouldn’t break. They’re full of polyurethane fibers. They’re added to the cotton. It makes them strong. In most places they’re used to immobilize limbs. After a sprain, normally. Here we need them for snakebites. You have to bind the area around a wound really tight to stop the venom from spreading.”

I opened one of the packets and tried to break the material.

“If you double it up it’ll be even stronger,” Dr. Houllier said.

I used the first bandage to tie Mansour’s ankles. I checked the knot and figured Dr. Houllier was right. It should hold. I secured Mansour’s hands behind his back. Then I did the same with the guys in the suits. Dr. Houllier watched me work and when I was done he scooped up the pile of empty wrappers and dumped them in the trash. I dropped the guys’ guns and wallets and other stuff in the clinical waste bucket.

I said, “If I was a secretive person and wanted to get in and out of the building without being seen, how would I do it?”

“Through the ambulance bay. The way I brought you in last night.”

“I was in a body bag last night. You could have brought me down the chimney for all I could see.”

“Oh. Of course. Well, it’s all the way at the rear of the building. It’s on its own. It has a separate entrance from the street. There’s a gate but it’s not locked, and you can’t see in from the outside. The doors are automatic, and the corridor bifurcates before you get to the ER. One branch leads to an elevator, which comes straight down to the basement. As long as a casualty isn’t incoming at that moment no one would have a clue you’d been there.”

“Security cameras?”

Dr. Houllier shook his head. “It’s been proposed a couple of times, but never acted on. Privacy issues. That’s the official line. But there’s also the question of budget. That’s the real reason, if you ask me. Come on. I’ll show you.”

I followed Dr. Houllier out of the morgue and along to the far end of the corridor. He hit the call button for the elevator. We waited side by side, in silence. The doors jerked open after less than a minute. The elevator car was spacious. It was broad and deep and lined with stainless steel. We rode up one floor then stepped out and followed another corridor around to a pair of tall glass doors. They slid apart as we approached and dumped us out into a rectangular courtyard. A series of red lines was painted on the flaking asphalt. I figured they marked the route for ambulances. One arc to turn, and another to reverse into the unloading zone. There was ample space for two emergency vehicles. And tucked in next to the wall on the right side, facing away from the entrance, there was a lone sedan. A Lincoln Town Car.

I clicked a button on Mansour’s key fob and the car’s blinkers flashed. The locks in all the doors clunked open. It was the old style, square and severe. It was black. Ubiquitous black, the official name in the brochure should have been. And as a bonus it also had blacked-out windows. Maybe because of the climate. Maybe because of Dendoncker’s paranoia. Or maybe just because he thought it looked cool. I didn’t know. And I didn’t care. Because it meant no one would be able to see inside. The town seemed pretty quiet. It was unlikely the ER would be overrun by a spate of wounded citizens at that time of day. I figured I could safely leave the car where it was for a half hour or so.

I locked the Lincoln and Dr. Houllier led the way back to the morgue. He helped me wrestle Mansour onto a gurney. I hauled him along the corridor and into the elevator and around to the ambulance bay. I continued across to the back of the car. Popped the trunk and half lifted, half rolled the guy inside.

I made a second trip and returned with the curly-haired guy in the pale suit. He was easier to maneuver. I wheeled him up close to the side of the car and slid him onto the backseat like a plank. Then I fetched the straight-haired guy in the dark suit. I tried to lay him on top of his buddy but he slipped off and fell facedown in the footwell. I left him there and returned the gurney to the morgue. I thanked Dr. Houllier for his help. Said goodbye, and headed for the medical center’s main entrance.