Always Kiss the Corpse by Sandy Frances Duncan Page A

what a different medical school taught my endocrinologist friend.” Philip looked at his empty glass. “I’d like another drink.”
    Andrei waved his hand in the direction of the liquor shelf.
    Philip took Andrei’s glass, filled both to half, and brought them back. “There’s lots of forms of sexual distribution. We’re pretty certain that Sandro was getting some heavy hormone treatments.”
    â€œHormones? To make himself more of a man?”
    â€œWe don’t think so.” Philip took a swallow of bourbon.
    Andrei whispered, “More of a woman?”
    Philip nodded. “Yes.”
    â€œOh my god!”
    â€œWe think he was having himself transgendered. That’s the word these days.”
    Andrei focused on the table. Both hands rose to his face and he rubbed it, up and down. “Oh, Philip . . .”
    â€œI’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you—”
    Andrei dropped his hands, his mouth a straight line. “You had to. What else?”
    â€œThat’s about it.” Tell Andrei who might have been doing the work on Sandro? He’d find this out whatever Philip said now. “There are five major clinics in the northwest that do this kind of work. And two in British Columbia. The closest is on Whidbey Island. It’s the logical place Sandro would have gone to.”
    Andrei stood. “I’ll be right back.” He walked slowly to an unobtrusive door, opened, stepped inside, and closed it.
    Philip took his glass, got up, strolled to the window. Outside, lights bristled in the dulling distance. All kinds of homes, all kinds of people. All those different sexualities. Poor Andrei. He took too many responsibilities onto himself. Philip sipped. Sandro would have been in desperate straits to inject enough heroin to kill himself. Poor son of a bitch. Maybe, if Philip had known and been able to talk to Sandro, he could’ve done something.
    The door opened. Andrei reappeared. A major transformation: a beaten man had gone into the bathroom, a superman had come out. Andrei looked a foot taller and fifteen years younger. “I need your ongoing help.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œLearn for me all you can about this clinic on Whidbey.”
    â€œI’ll get on it right away.”
    â€œWith discretion. I don’t want anyone to know what you’re doing. The sooner we know more, the better. And this is between you and me. The present level of disgrace is plenty.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œAlso, it mustn’t be suicide. He’d be buried in unhallowed ground. Everyone would know. The most important person to not hear of this is Maria.”
    â€œOf course. But she’ll want to know why Sandro didn’t look like Sandro.”
    â€œBlame it on the heroin. Something that sounds good medically. You’ll make her miserable. But not as miserable as the truth. Let her remember her son as her son. Not her daughter.”
    Philip placed his glass on the table. “Right.”
    Andrei strode to his desk and sat down. “The information on that clinic as soon as you can. Who the doctors are, just exactly what they do. I’ll make sure they keep their mouths shut.”
    â€œI’ll call you.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Andrei watched Philip leave. The protection of respectability was essential. He now had to talk to two people. The protopresbyter, Father Peter, his church’s spiritual leader, who would not be told the full truth. And Andrei’s nephew, Vasily. Vasily the troubleshooter. Andrei needed some troubles shot away.
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    Noel, Ursula and Kyra sat in the Tracker outside the sheriff’s office waiting for Brady to emerge. She finished work at four. Noel added his notes onto his laptop.
    He twisted to face the back seat. “Where was Sandro supposed to have the surgery?”
    Ursula squinted in thought. “Her doctors were all at