He doesn’t look at me as he praises Victoria’s strengths and character, but his gaze keeps falling back to Dr. Pierce. There’s a flicker of doubt in his eyes that slowly grows into suspicion.
* * *
A new body arrives in the morgue. Tim is jotting notes down beside the dead man as I step in the room.
“What happened to that guy?” I ask.
“He was shot three times,” he says. “I just needed to remove the bullets so the detectives can have something to compare if they find the killer’s gun. Ed Bunt already took his clothes back to your lab. Did you need something? You know you can just call.”
“Well, I figured I’d come down and talk to you personally because…it’s not the senator that I want to talk about,” I say. “It’s the student.”
“Victoria Glassman?” he asks, setting his clipboard down. “I thought I told you that death was undetermined.”
“I’m not telling you to reopen it,” I say. “I just wanted to know if you found any evidence that she was sexually active right before she died.”
He exhales loudly. “No. There was no sign that she had sex.”
“Was there anything else you found?”
“No,” he says. “Nothing. You think I would have put the case aside if I had found something other than the asphyxia? I get that she was young and her death is tragic, but I have a stabbing victim and a shooting victim. I don’t have a lot of time to wonder about a young woman whose death doesn’t appear violent.”
Before I can answer, the morgue door opens and Detective Stolz walks into the room. She stops when she sees me.
“Solano, what are you doing here?” she asks. “I didn’t think you were even working today.”
“I was just—”
“She was asking about Victoria Glassman,” Tim interrupts. “I already told her that I had to focus on the other cases.”
She stares at me. “I thought I made it quite clear that you also needed to focus on the other cases.”
“I just wanted to be thorough.”
“Look, I know you’re not a team player, but we have murderers walking around this city,” she says. “They need your attention. You can’t find every murderer and you won’t find one for a woman when we don’t even know how she died. In all likelihood, it was perfectly natural causes, so you’re chasing a ghost. Stop wasting your time, stop wasting Dr. Lindhal’s time, and let it go.”
“I am a team player,” I argue. Tim and Stolz raise their eyebrows. “Sometimes. When I have team members who want the same things I do.”
“We all do want the same thing,” Stolz says slowly, as if she’s talking to a dimwitted child. “To solve murders. So let’s focus on the cases that we know are actual murders. If you don’t, I will go to the Lieutenant or even the Captain and I can assure you they won’t be happy to hear that you’re lingering on this case.”
“I understand,” I say, standing up taller.
“Do you?” she asks.
“No,” I admit. “But I’m not going to risk my job over it.”
She nods. “That’s good enough for me.”
* * *
M agician’s Suitcase is a magic shop that my family has owned for a few generations. My father says it was named after his great grandfather, who had traveled with all of his tricks in a suitcase that was constantly falling apart. I worked here all through college and I honestly don’t miss it.
The shop is overstocked like it always is. It's divided into different kinds of magic tricks. In the front center, there are card tricks and other close-up magic (detachable thumbs, cups and balls, magical coins). In the middle on the right are stage illusions (such as the infamous boxes that a beautiful woman could lie inside and be sawed in half without getting hurt). In the middle left is escapology (handcuffs, locks, chains). The back is reserved for literature about magic—biographies about the best magicians, how-to books on becoming famous, step-by-step instructions on how to do certain magic tricks