into one of the refrigerator rooms. The place is all cold steel and ceramic tile. Noticeably rank. There’s a small desk and computer crammed over to the side. He’s talking in a low whisper. God knows why, nobody back here but him, Frank, and dead people.
“So, I’m checking last night’s tapes and around one a.m., I get this.” He brings up the video on his computer. It’s the hallway we just came through.
Nothing for a second. Then a naked man, old and withered, hobbles out of the refrigeration room, crosses over to another room. It’s hard to tell if it’s Giavetti, because his face is turned away from the camera.
DeWalt fast-forwards the video. “That’s the locker room he went into. He comes out about twenty minutes later.” Sure enough, he hobbles back out, but now he’s got surgical scrubs and a lab coat. He turns and heads toward the front door, and that’s when we catch his face.
It’s Giavetti all right.
“Fuck me,” Frank says.
“Is this what you were looking for?” DeWalt asks. “This guy hide in a bag and come in or something?” He’s reaching and he knows it, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Yeah, it’s what we’re looking for. Anybody sign out last night around then?”
“Nope. Camera caught him leaving, though. Walked right past the night receptionist like she didn’t even see him.”
“Probably didn’t,” I say. Frank gives me a look telling me he’d rather DeWalt stayed in the dark.
“Okay. Can you crack open one of these drawers?”
DeWalt hesitates. “This is just some guy hopped a ride on a morgue wagon, right?”
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Just some psycho. Probably came in to fuck an overdose or something. Good thing you brought this to me.”
DeWalt’s nodding. Necrophilia’s something he can understand. “Yeah. Just some psycho,” he says. “So, what drawer you’re looking for?”
“Guy came in yesterday morning from that shootout up in the hills.”
DeWalt winces. “He’s not one of the messed up ones, is he? Most of them are still double bagged to keep them in one piece.”
“GSW to the skull.”
“Oh, the headshot? Yeah he’s right here. We had to double them up. He’s in here with a multiple stab wound.”
DeWalt starts to slide open a drawer. Frank stops him.
“Why don’t you go and get some coffee, okay?” he says.
DeWalt looks from Frank to me and back again. “You sure?”
“Yeah. We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
DeWalt leaves, anxiously looking over his shoulder at us. Frank closes the door behind him.
I slide the drawer open, unzip the body bag.
“This isn’t Giavetti,” I say. “I’m not even sure it’s a person.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” he says, coming over to me. I step aside to give him a good look.
“Fuck me,” he says.
The body looks like it was pulled from the pyramids at Giza. It’s nothing but a mummy dressed in a Lakers T-shirt and jeans that are now five sizes too big. The skin is tight and dried out, bones poking through the stab wounds. I’d swear he was a hundred years old before he died. The toe tag says he’s nineteen.
There’s a list on the inside of the drawer, an extra body bag underneath.
“DeWalt said he was double drawered. So this is the second guy,” I say.
“Christ, what happened to him?”
I pull the drawer next to Giavetti’s, unzip the bag. A woman. Same thing.
“Same thing that happened to this one,” I say.
I pull more drawers open, check bodies. All of the ones around Giavetti’s drawer are in the same condition. Mummies. They’re all the same up to three bodies away from where he was stored. Some of them are more dried out than others.
“How did he do this?” Frank says.
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. Sucked ’em dry, maybe? Pulls out fluids like a vampire?”
“That’s disgusting,” Frank says. I agree. The human body’s got some pretty vile things in it. I should know, I oozed a
“So, I’m checking last night’s tapes and around one a.m., I get this.” He brings up the video on his computer. It’s the hallway we just came through.
Nothing for a second. Then a naked man, old and withered, hobbles out of the refrigeration room, crosses over to another room. It’s hard to tell if it’s Giavetti, because his face is turned away from the camera.
DeWalt fast-forwards the video. “That’s the locker room he went into. He comes out about twenty minutes later.” Sure enough, he hobbles back out, but now he’s got surgical scrubs and a lab coat. He turns and heads toward the front door, and that’s when we catch his face.
It’s Giavetti all right.
“Fuck me,” Frank says.
“Is this what you were looking for?” DeWalt asks. “This guy hide in a bag and come in or something?” He’s reaching and he knows it, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Yeah, it’s what we’re looking for. Anybody sign out last night around then?”
“Nope. Camera caught him leaving, though. Walked right past the night receptionist like she didn’t even see him.”
“Probably didn’t,” I say. Frank gives me a look telling me he’d rather DeWalt stayed in the dark.
“Okay. Can you crack open one of these drawers?”
DeWalt hesitates. “This is just some guy hopped a ride on a morgue wagon, right?”
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Just some psycho. Probably came in to fuck an overdose or something. Good thing you brought this to me.”
DeWalt’s nodding. Necrophilia’s something he can understand. “Yeah. Just some psycho,” he says. “So, what drawer you’re looking for?”
“Guy came in yesterday morning from that shootout up in the hills.”
DeWalt winces. “He’s not one of the messed up ones, is he? Most of them are still double bagged to keep them in one piece.”
“GSW to the skull.”
“Oh, the headshot? Yeah he’s right here. We had to double them up. He’s in here with a multiple stab wound.”
DeWalt starts to slide open a drawer. Frank stops him.
“Why don’t you go and get some coffee, okay?” he says.
DeWalt looks from Frank to me and back again. “You sure?”
“Yeah. We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
DeWalt leaves, anxiously looking over his shoulder at us. Frank closes the door behind him.
I slide the drawer open, unzip the body bag.
“This isn’t Giavetti,” I say. “I’m not even sure it’s a person.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” he says, coming over to me. I step aside to give him a good look.
“Fuck me,” he says.
The body looks like it was pulled from the pyramids at Giza. It’s nothing but a mummy dressed in a Lakers T-shirt and jeans that are now five sizes too big. The skin is tight and dried out, bones poking through the stab wounds. I’d swear he was a hundred years old before he died. The toe tag says he’s nineteen.
There’s a list on the inside of the drawer, an extra body bag underneath.
“DeWalt said he was double drawered. So this is the second guy,” I say.
“Christ, what happened to him?”
I pull the drawer next to Giavetti’s, unzip the bag. A woman. Same thing.
“Same thing that happened to this one,” I say.
I pull more drawers open, check bodies. All of the ones around Giavetti’s drawer are in the same condition. Mummies. They’re all the same up to three bodies away from where he was stored. Some of them are more dried out than others.
“How did he do this?” Frank says.
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. Sucked ’em dry, maybe? Pulls out fluids like a vampire?”
“That’s disgusting,” Frank says. I agree. The human body’s got some pretty vile things in it. I should know, I oozed a
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