Dead Wrong by J. M. Griffin Page B

of elevators and then smiled.
    â€œThank you,” I said and scooted along.
    The door opened when it reached the second floor and I stood facing Porter. His grim expression told me the news wasn’t good. My stomach tightened and flip-flopped a couple times as I stepped out of the elevator.
    â€œHi. You kept cutting in and out and I couldn’t hear everything you said. What’s the matter?” I asked, nervous over what I thought had likely happened. Crisp was dead, that’s what I thought.
    â€œIt’s tough inside this building sometimes. It depends on the location. Concrete and steel aren’t always conducive to cell phone reception. Sorry.” He grasped my arm lightly and turned me toward Detective Bellini’s office.
    Hell, I’d have to put up with two detectives today, not just Porter. Bellini and I have a like/hate type of relationship. As long as I don’t fail his fledgling detectives, we’re fine. Hot-tempered phone conversations have been a common occurrence – until lately. I owed him a favor for a favor, so I walked softly around the man now.
    The door to Bellini’s inner sanctum swung open. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and a smirk on his face. Porter steered me through the door. He settled in a chair before Bellini’s desk and I took the one next to his. Bellini sat behind the metal desk and stared at me for a moment.
    â€œHow have you been, Vinnie?” he asked, affable in his demeanor.
    â€œGood, I’ve been good, Detective. And you?” I asked. Anxious to get the formalities out of the way, I hitched back in the chair, lightly clasping my hands in front of me.
    â€œGood. Anderson tells me you found a dead body. What was your relationship with the man?”
    In a few words, I explained the situation and waited. What the hell was going on now? I wondered.
    â€œWe have another dead person in the morgue that I’d like you to see. It’s nothing gross, but we need you to tell us if this is Nurse Crisp or not.”
    â€œYou found Nurse Crisp dead?” I asked. My eyes felt like they were bugging from my head.
    â€œPorter says the woman is similar in looks to the picture you drew of Crisp. You can help us out by taking a look.” He nodded to Porter.
    Anderson rose from his chair and I stood up as well. I nodded to Bellini and we left the office, heading down the elevator to the basement. A detective’s cruiser sat near the elevator doors in the parking area and we got in.
    Silence lengthened as we drove the short distance to the medical examiner’s office. I jumped from the car and waited for Porter to accompany me inside. My stomach flipped over a few times and my airway constricted, making breathing difficult.
    Once inside the building, we strode through the corridors until we came to the gleaming stainless steel doors. Porter pushed one aside and I entered, curious to see what the room looked like. I forced myself to remain calm and detached. It was no easy task, I must say.
    Gleaming cabinets faced me and an attendant stepped forward. Porter nodded and told him why we were there. The guy walked to a unit and pulled the door open. A long table slid forth on soundless rollers with a body laid out on the cold steel slab. Porter nudged me closer and waited as I brought my gaze to the body.
    â€œIt’s not Crisp,” I said and abruptly stepped backward. With her pale skin, and waxy appearance, the woman’s face showed no signs of violence. A bluish tinge colored her lips and eyelids. Dark marks on her neck caught my eye. So much for non-violence, I thought. Someone had choked the life out of her.
    â€œStrangled, huh?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, but drowning was the cause of death. She was unconscious when she hit the water and then she drowned in Slacks Pond.” He nodded and the attendant slid the drawer closed and shut the cabinet door. “You’re sure it’s not