Afterlife - Douglas Clegg [19]
7
She woke up late, and couldn’t pull herself out of bed until eleven. She had the vague memory of a dirty dream—something about a man pressing his fingers into her and licking her thighs. It made her feel a little guilty to have such a dream so soon after Hut’s death.
When she finally rose, she made some calls to the sheriff. Julie learned from the sheriff’s office that Detective McGuane had gotten some kind of ridiculous permission to transfer Hut’s body to a morgue in Manhattan.
“It’s necessary,” the sheriff told her on the phone, and she had first called Andrew Money, a lawyer she knew from work at the hospital, to see what her legal rights were in this—she’d left an overly detailed message for the lawyer, which she wished she could’ve erased right after she’d finished with it.
By noon, she had tried to reach McGuane by phone, furious that she could not plan a funeral and have her husband’s body safe from the dissectors of the autopsy room.
Finally, McGuane tracked her down, via cell phone. “Mrs. Hutchinson, we need to talk again. As soon as possible.”
8
“I can drive you,” Mel said.
“I can do it. I need the drive. I’ll be fine.”
“No, I’m going to drive you. Laura can stay with the
kids. You should not be behind the wheel of a car right now. Not with all this,” Mel said. “I can go shopping— where’s this guy? Hey, he’s right around the corner from Bed, Bath & Beyond. I need to get a few things. So, you just call me when you’re done. I can shop ’til midnight if I have to.”
It took them nearly two hours to get to the city, so she was at McGuane’s office just before three.
McGuane’s office was full of maps and pictures of what might’ve been forensics snapshots. A gallery of the dead in pictures.
A young woman sat opposite McGuane. She glanced back at Julie, as if startled from a private conversation.
“Mrs. Hutchinson, this is Officer Donati. She’s our point person in forensics.”
Donati nodded in her direction, a warm but silent greeting.
“Coffee?” McGuane asked, pointed toward a Mr. Coffee machine that looked filthy at the edge of his desk.
She shook her head slightly. “What is it you wouldn’t tell me on the phone?”
“Please, sit down,” McGuane said, overly polite, gesturing to an empty chair near the other officer.
Donati spoke up. “This happens from time to time with transfers between morgues and paperwork foulups, although in this case, it’s somewhat unique. It’s…”
McGuane cut her off. “Mrs. Hutchinson, your husband’s body is missing.”
Chapter Six
1
It was nearly four-thirty when she stepped out onto the street in Manhattan, and just began wandering. She felt as if the woman named Julie Hutchinson had been hollowed out, and now she was someone else. She walked down to Sixth Avenue, and cut east over to Washington Square. The great arch was fenced off, and the circle within the park had some acrobat passing a hat after a brief show. Dogs in the dog run were barking, and she almost wished she were a drug addict so she could buy some drug from the dealers at the edge of the park, some drug that would just put her further away from reality. Then along the streets, again, past NYU, past the windows of shops full of shoes or books or pastries or trendy clothes. She stepped into Shakespeare & Company, a bookstore that had been a favorite of hers from her student days. She browsed the shelves, wondering what she should be looking for.
Then, she remembered the conversation with her mother, after Mel had done a three-way phone conversation