No Immunity by Susan Dunlap Read Free Book Online Page A

through the roof? Come on, Jeff, stop beating around the bush.”
    He smacked down the tape recorder. “It’s not a complicated concept. Out back”—he was speaking as if to a recalcitrant child—“there is an alley. The morgue has a back entry. That’s where the deliveries are made... because... Kiernan... citizens on their way to the cafe don’t find it appetizing to see dead bodies being carted across * the sidewalk.”
    Her hand went to her mask, and she had to stop herself from pulling it off and striding out the door. “Hey, I’m here as a favor. You can answer my questions civilly or find yourself a more accommodating friend. Got it?”
    He started to speak, reconsidered, and stood, pale lips quivering.
    “Got it?” Her hand was still on the mask.
    He grunted and she decided to accept that as a yes. “How did this stranger get in?”
    “Door’s open. Morgue gets deliveries at odd times. Mortician doesn’t want to be running back in the middle of lunch to unlock the door. Or be pulled away from a funeral to do it. It’s easier to leave the door open.” Before she could question that, he added, “This isn’t San Francisco , you know. People don’t steal everything that’s not nailed down.” He shot a glance at her face and added more conciliatorily, “The formaldehyde and the instruments and such are in locked cabinets.”
    “What did the mortician say?”
    “Didn’t know anything about it.”
    “And you believe him?”
    “Yeah. He’s too old to be involved in much more than getting out of bed in the morning.”
    Crime or no, it seemed like a slapdash system. “What was the deceased wearing?”
    “Over there.”
    The pile was small. Navy blue walking shorts, white cotton cap-sleeved blouse embroidered with flowers, white cotton panties, runner’s bra, white socks, and running shoes. “Jeez, what were you thinking? If she’s an illegal immigrant, she’s assimilated real quick.”
    “The blouse—”
    “Sure, it’s one you associate with Mexico , or with vacations in Mexico , or with import stores. But nylon hip-hugger underpants and a sports bra? And running shoes? This is a couple hundred dollars’ of clothes. What’s going on here?” She did a quick sweep of the body, her gaze coming to rest on the woman’s feet. The leg was still stiff and she had to bend to see the heel. “This is not a woman used to walking barefoot, or probably even in sandals. Look at her heel; it’s almost smooth. That’s a heel that’s been protected and cared for. And her toenails. See the pale peach nail polish? What you have here is a woman who cared about her appearance and had the time to—”
    “What about her fingernails, though? They’re a mess.”
    “Hmm. Same color polish, heavily chipped; encrusted with dirt or maybe blood. Chances are she had a bad couple of days.”
    “But the toes—”
    “Jeff, if a woman wears shoes and stockings, toenail polish lasts forever. If nails were soldiers, toes would be the generals sipping bourbon in the Pentagon, and fingers the draftees in the trenches.”
    “Strange.” He was looking at the corpse, but his focus was blurry
    Kiernan wished she had known him well enough to guess what was behind those eyes. Was he truly baffled or was he mixing her observation with data he had no intention of sharing? “So what brought this unknown woman in here dead?”
    His mask had begun to fog, too, and Kiernan couldn’t make out his expression as he said, “Maybe my past. Or because I’m the only one who would take a stand.”
    “But you didn’t take a stand, did you?”
    “I got you here.”

CHAPTER 10

    Kiernan stared down at the dead woman’s grotesquely swollen face. Blood had seeped through her pores, out over her eyes. The neck was still stiff, and Kiernan had to bend to peer through the magnifying glass into the ears. “Looks like petechia there too.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    “Was rigor set when you examined her? Could you still get