Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [585]
“Why is it so fucking cold in here?” Racine complained.
“We have a choice, Detective. We either deal with the cold or we deal with the maggots crawling all over us.”
Maggie couldn’t remember Stan ever using the air-conditioning before this. The basement autopsy suites had recently been renovated, but the old steel ducts had not. Turning on the heat or the A/C during an autopsy could compromise evidence by adding debris. So Stan usually had it turned off for the hour or two during the autopsy. Evidently he would rather deal with the debris and the cold than with the maggots.
Racine didn’t answer. Instead, she glanced at Maggie, who was putting on the second gown on top of the first. Racine followed her lead and took another off the pile. Racine needed to wrap both gowns several times around her tall, thin body almost like a mummy. Only then did Maggie notice that the usually athletic and fit detective looked as if she had lost weight since Maggie had seen her last. She had heard that Racine had been making frequent trips between the District and Connecticut to visit her deteriorating father even before Racine’s late-night invitation. Maggie had met and grown attached to Luc Racine while working a case practically in his backyard. Despite Luc’s early onset of Alzheimer’s, he and Maggie had exchanged favors, sort of coming to each other’s rescue. Her fondness and concern for the older Racine had created a connection with the younger Racine, one Maggie didn’t necessarily want. Sometimes she wondered if she and Julia Racine had met and gotten to know each other under different circumstances, circumstances that didn’t include an almost botched case and an unwanted sexual advance, that maybe they would have become friends.
She watched Racine check out the reflection of her spiky blond hair in a dissection tray. Behind all the cockiness and bravado, Maggie knew there had to be a vulnerable and insecure woman, walking a fine line, trying not to screw up, hiding any hint of fear or doubt. She had seen glimpses and in those few and brief fleeting moments Maggie realized that she and Julia Racine had that in common. They were both very good at hiding who they really were.
Maggie handed Racine a pair of latex gloves and Racine raised an eyebrow at their purple color.
“I have to hand it to you, Stan,” Racine said as she pulled on the exotic-colored gloves. “You always have the newest and coolest toys.”
He scowled at her over his shoulder as he slid the bagged head out of the wall refrigerator and onto a tray. Maggie realized Stan had taken Racine’s attempt at making light of the situation as an insinuation that he spent department funds in a frivolous manner. Hadn’t he realized by now that Racine’s inappropriate behavior and remarks were simply her way of masking her discomfort at autopsies? Perhaps he was too used to working with the dead to notice, or to have patience with something as simple as human emotion or inane idiosyncrasies.
“Do you need any help?” Maggie offered, rolling up the double-gown sleeves and hoping to relieve the tension in the suite. But a second scowl from Stan, this one leveled in her direction, immediately telegraphed her mistake. Silly of her—she knew better. She stepped back, out of his way. Poor Stan. Maggie often wondered if he wished he could post a No Visitors sign on the door.
“Last time I had to rig up a device.” He ignored her offer, and instead, pointed to a contraption on the autopsy table that looked like a clamping device made of PVC pipe and aluminum. “I didn’t think I’d be using it again this soon,” he said and he didn’t sound happy about it.
He fumbled with the plastic bag, a miniature version of a body bag. Maggie stopped herself from reaching over to help. It would be so easy to start the zipper that was closer to her side. Her medical background allowed her to assist with autopsies, but common sense usually told her which M.E.’s or coroners would