Blood Hunt

4

Garreth had never liked the morgue. From the first required visits during training at the Police Academy, he had seen it as a place of harsh light and hard surfaces, where sound echoed coldly and the stainless steel and tile surfaces turned people into distorted reflections. It reeked of decomp, an odor that pervaded everything, hitting him as he came in the door and lingering tenaciously in his nostrils for hours after he left. This year he had come to despise the place, particularly the freezer with its rows of sheet-covered gurneys. No matter that he intellectually recognized the necessity of the morgue, and that the dead here served the living. Every time he heard the click of the freezer latch and the oiled hiss of its hinges, he relived the nightmare when the face under the sheet inside was Marti’s and half his soul had been torn away.

He stood with face set, ready to catch Verneau if need be, though the attendant brought the body to the public viewing area and folded back the sheet just enough to reveal the face, not the neck.

Verneau swallowed hard. “Son of a bitch. Yes…that’s Gary.”

The attendant lowered the sheet and they left the morgue.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asked.

Verneau sucked in a breath. “Last night. The exhibition hall closes at seven and we walked out together.”

“Do you know what his plans were for the evening?”

“Eating out with conventioneers, I suppose. He did Monday night, and that was his usual practice…to make personal contacts, you know.”

“Did he happen to mention any names, or where he was going?”

“Not to me.”

“A watch and ring were taken from him. Can you describe them?”

Verneau shook his head. “Maybe his wife can. She’s in Denver.” He sucked in another breath. “God, this doesn’t seem real.”

Garreth said, “He had a large bruise on his neck. Do you remember seeing it last night?”

“Bruise?” Verneau blinked. “I — no, I don’t remember. How did this happen? Wouldn’t a mugger just rob him? He wouldn’t have resisted; he always said you give them what they want, that property can always be replaced. He never carried much in the evening anyway…one credit card and enough cash for the evening. Would someone kill him because he didn’t have much?”

Harry caught Garreth’s eye. “Why don’t I take Mr. Verneau back to the Moscone and talk to people there, then go to Mossman’s hotel. You get on the horn to Denver PD and have them contact the wife. See if she knows his enemies. Tell them we need a description of his jewelry to put out to the pawnshops. See you later.”