Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [11]
I quit struggling. “Sam, please be serious. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Rebecca’s body was mutilated and her chart is missing.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find it if I have to tear the hospital apart.” He rubbed his thumb across the soft inner V of flesh between my thumb and forefinger, causing my breath to back up.
Damn, why was I still reacting to his touch? To mask my discomfort, I went on the attack. “Why are you here? I asked your captain to keep me apprised of every development in the case.”
“You were once in this line of business, you know the drill. However, if you’re that anxious, you could ride around in my back pocket.”
“Keep it up, Bowie, and I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“You always did like my cute butt.”
“Would you please be professional?” This time I gave a good yank and he released my hand. I punched both the Up and Down buttons. When Sam raised a brow, I shrugged. “Whichever one gets here first.”
I glanced at the floor directory. The listing for the chief pathologist gave me pause. As the department that last handled the body, perhaps its report never made it to the chart. I gave Sam a nonchalant look. “What’s your next step?”
“Back to the office for a search warrant.”
“Even though it’s probably a waste of time, I’ll go see the administrator and call you if I learn anything.” Not.
“Sure you will, Red.”
Two doors whooshed open, the cars going in opposite directions. “Here you go.” Sam gestured to the one going up. “See you around.” He disappeared into the down elevator.
The moment the doors shut, I pushed the button for the basement and grinned when the arrow light switched directions.
Seconds later, I stepped out on the lowest basement level into the bowels of the hospital and halted. There stood Sam, one hand braced on his hip.
“The administrator not in?”
“I thought you were heading back to the station.” I tapped my foot against the worn puke-green linoleum. His gaze dropped to the hem of my skirt and lower, and I ceased tapping.
He grinned. “It looks like we both figured out the hospital’s pathologist may still have his report, so why don’t we go together?”
A shop sign flipped to Closed hung on the bank of doors leading to the morgue. I paused. “Does that mean an examination’s in progress or does the doctor have a warped sense of humor?”
“As in ‘open’ stands for autopsy?” Sam considered the sign and then pushed on the door handle.
As we entered an abbreviated hallway, I noticed a board with slash marks on it. “He keeps a scoreboard.” I spotted an office door with a nameplate and opened it to a blast of music. Coldplay reverberated from a neon green media player nestled in its docking stand. Bright modern art posters covered the walls and—I took a second look through the window in the connecting door to the morgue—one on the ceiling above the gleaming autopsy table.
Doctor Hassenfeld sat pecking at a computer, his desk buried under piles of folders. He glanced up, his broad grin causing his walrus mustache to quiver. “Damn, you folks figured out the sign, huh?”
Sam flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Bowie and this is—”
“A vision of loveliness to grace this oasis of death,” Dr. Hassenfeld murmured as he rose, took the hand I had extended and kissed the back of it, his mustache tickling me.
With a half laugh, I managed to extricate my hand. “I’m attorney Nicole Sterling.”
“What a shame.” The doctor shook his head. “Such a beautiful woman to be a blood-sucker. But any victims here are already dead, Counselor.”
“Ha, ha.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vampire?”
I sighed. Trust him to pick a ghoulish lawyer joke. “A vampire only sucks blood at night.”
“Uh, Doc,” Sam interrupted. “If we could get down to business…”
“Monkey business?” The doctor leered at me.
Enough was enough. “No, about a patient who died here.”
“Must have had the hospital food. It kills me every day.”
“Doctor Hassenfeld. Please, this is serious. My clients’ baby died here, suspected SIDS death.”
“Or suffocation,” Sam added coolly.
“Claire’s baby? Sad case.