11
A body snatcher could earn between three and six
months’ wages for a fresh corpse.
 
Less than twenty-four hours after I’d seen Stella’s body being carted away, thinking about fresh corpses wasn’t exactly what I needed to take my mind off my problems. Sure, I’m in the business of death. Sometimes more than I like. But give me some credit; that doesn’t mean the whole notion doesn’t gross me out.
Kind of like the memory of Stella’s arm slipping out from under that sheet.
I shivered. Skimming over Ella’s paper for the presentation I was scheduled to give on the final day of the conference was supposed to distract me. Too bad it wasn’t working. Always a trooper, I tried again.
 
Unlawful exhumations and the sale of the bodies that were dug up were done by men known as Resurrection men or Resurrectionists. Sometimes, they were called sack-’em-ups, because they used sacks to carry the corpses to the doctors and medical students who would then dissect them.
 
“Yetch!” I tossed the presentation down on the coffee table in my hotel room and hugged my arms around myself. It was bad enough I was nervous about speaking in front of who knew how many cemetery geeks. Worse when the topic was so weird that even I (who had, after all, seen, talked to, and investigated for the weirdest of the weirdest) got the willies.
No. I take that back. The worst part was that even the stack of papers Ella had sent to Chicago with me wasn’t enough to take my mind off what had happened to Stella.
And make me wonder if it was my fault.
This time when I grumbled, it had nothing to do with Resurrectionists, cemetery conferences, or Ella’s misplaced faith that I could speak in front of a crowd without making a fool of myself. Oh no. The mixture of disgust and guilt was all about me. All about whether I’d made a mistake going to the clinic. And about poor dead Stella, of course.
Was that guy in the crowd—the one who said Stella had been pushed—right?
I hoped not, because believe me, I wasn’t happy thinking what it might mean. Maybe Stella knew more than she let on. Maybe someone at the clinic had seen me and Stella together and was afraid she’d say too much. Maybe that same someone killed her to shut her up. Or maybe Stella was as clueless as she appeared to be. Maybe her untimely end was meant as a message—one that told me MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS in neon letters, six feet high.
Any way I looked at it, it took what had simply been the business of the maybe-missing patients and turned it way ugly.
Of course, I could have chosen to find comfort in the morning Tribune. The article about Stella’s death had been relegated to a small column in an inside section. It used the word accident liberally. If that was true, I actually might be able to sleep better at night.
If it wasn’t . . .
I grabbed my coat and went to the door. Now that I had a dead woman on my hands (so to speak) and the names of the missing patients, I also had a ton of questions. I’d been waiting all morning for Madeline to show so I could ask them, and I was getting sick and tired of it. Heading out seemed the perfect solution, both to finding her and to keeping myself so busy that maybe I could forget the picture that kept popping into my head—the one of that arm in the ripped pink parka when it slipped out from under the sheet and flapped back and forth.
Like Stella was waving to me.
 
 
 
I am not completely delusional. I didn’t really think Madeline would accommodate me and show up at her gravesite to chat, but hey, whoever said that hope springs eternal knows the perils of investigating for the dead.
It was the only way I could think to contact her, so I waited in the cold, grateful that if nothing else, at least it wasn’t snowing. In fact, the skies had been clear all that day, and the sun nearly blinded me as it sank toward the horizon and ricocheted off the couple inches of fresh snow that had fallen the night before. Unfortunately, the sun was no more than a tease. It was no warmer than it had been since I stepped foot in Chicago, and after thirty minutes of waiting and shivering, I convinced myself that enough was enough. Madeline wanted me to help Dan, but I couldn’t do it until I talked to her. If she was MIA, for now, there was nothing I could do to convince Dan that I was the real deal.
And if Madeline never resurfaced?
See, that’s the problem with the dead. No e-mail, no cell phones, and they only pop in when they want to. Or when they want something. If for whatever reason Madeline wasn’t going to show hide nor ghostly hair and help me, then I’d simply have to find the answers to all my questions on my own.
It was the least I could do for Stella.
My determination renewed (even if it was a little frosty around the edges), I turned from Madeline’s grave. That’s the first time I realized I wasn’t alone.
Maybe the cold was freezing more than just my feet, my fingers, and the tip of my nose. Maybe my self-preservation instincts were frostbitten, too.
Maybe that’s why I hadn’t realized that big, terrifying shadow was back.
For the space of a dozen heartbeats, too scared to move or to think, I stared at the black mass drifting a couple feet above the ground between me and the Palmer memorial. As I watched, it billowed like an angry thundercloud, then collapsed in on itself, growing denser and heavier and darker. It grew taller, too. Its middle slimmed out, and a bit of shadow on each side of it split off. Like arms.
It wasn’t a person. Not exactly. It looked more like an animal, a monster, and when it took a couple steps in my direction, I swear, the ground shook.
Or maybe that was just my knees.
Funny thing about getting scared, though. Once I hit rock bottom, the only way to go was up. When I bounced back from that initial thud of panic, it should come as no surprise that I did it with a healthy dose of how-dare-you. Before I even knew what I was doing, my anger was in charge. It wasn’t until I made a move to kick through the snow and move toward the thing that I realized something weird was going on. I mean, something weirder than the weird something that was already going on.
Because everywhere within ten feet of the shadow, there was no snow. It had all melted.
I refused to consider the implications. Physical, cosmic, or otherwise.
“OK, you want to tell me what’s up?” I demanded of the thing. “Because I’m a little tired of this stupid game. I’m supposed to be scared?” I made sure I laughed when I said this, because if I allowed it, the scared part of me would swallow up the angry part and then I’d be back to quivering and sniveling. So not attractive, and counterproductive to boot. “Please! I’m the one with the Gift, remember? You non-dead types are old news. You’re not scaring me at all. In fact, all you’re doing is pissing me off. So why don’t you quit it with the drama and the big, spooky shadow act and just tell me what you want. It will make your life simpler. Oh!” I slapped one gloved hand to the side of my face. “You don’t have a life, do you? But I do, buddy, and I’m sick of having it interrupted.”
The shadow’s eyes were as red as blood. They glowed and flared, and when the thing made a move, I thought for sure it was going to come at me. I tensed, all set to run, but before I could, it spoke.
“Don’t want you.” Its voice was like sandpaper on stone. “Go away, don’t want you.”
I thought about Dan and how he’d assumed I was desperate and dateless. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. But if you don’t want me, why do you keep bugging me?”
“Don’t want you.”
I sighed my frustration. “I know that. But you keep showing up. Every time I’m here.” I chanced a step closer.
“No!” It held up one hand. Or paw. Or whatever it was. When it did, something hit me like a punch. I staggered back and fought to catch my breath. “No closer.”
“Not to worry.” I held up a hand to signal that I was more than ready for a time-out, and bent at the waist, struggling to fight off the heaviness in my chest. “Apparently . . .” I hauled in a lungful of frigid air and stood straight again. “Apparently, that’s not something I want to do.”
I was talking to myself. The shadow was gone. The only indication that it had ever been there was the melted snow.
With no other choice, I figured it was time to get the hell out of there. I spun around, but the grass was wet, and my boots were muddy. When I felt myself slip, I put on the brakes, but by that time, there was no way I could keep on my feet.
There was a gravestone not two feet to my left. One look, and I knew it was déjà-vu all over again. Believe me, I wasn’t taking chances.
I pivoted, skidded, and slid. Helpless, I felt my legs go out from under me at the same time I watched an especially muddy patch of grass get closer and closer to my nose. I would have landed with a splat if not for the fact that someone grabbed me from behind and yanked me to my feet.
My hat was down over my eyes, and I grabbed it and pulled it off at the same time I struggled to regain my composure. I turned toward my rescuer. “Thank—you?”
OK, so it wasn’t exactly polite, and I’m not exactly Miss Manners. I had a perfect excuse, since I found myself looking at the homeless guy with the spiky hair.
He sloughed off my surprise as inconsequential. “You OK?”
“Are you kidding?” Since my coat was all twisted and tangled, I straightened it and stepped back and away from him. One of my gloves had fallen off and I bent to pick it up. Homeless Guy was faster. He grabbed the glove before I could and held it out to me.
I snatched it from him and tugged it on. “You want to explain what’s going on?”
“That’s funny, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you.” He acted like it was the most logical response in the world. “I heard you talking, though . . .” He glanced around at the expanse of very empty cemetery that surrounded us. “Who were you talking to?”
“Nobody.” The perfect truth, since (at least in my book) a shadow does not qualify as a who.
“Then who were you here waiting for?”
The same logic applied. I wasn’t about to start into an explanation. “What are you doing here?” I asked him instead.
“A better question might be what’s a cemetery tour guide from Cleveland doing here?”
I backed up another step. “You know who I am. How?”
“Word gets around.”
“Word from who?”
“Whom. The proper way to say it is word from whom.”
“I’m so not in the mood for this.” To prove it, I turned to walk away. Homeless Guy fell in step beside me.
I made sure the sidelong glance I gave him was short on friendliness and heavy on suspicion. “I know you’re not—” I was going to say dead, but seeing as how I was alone in a strange town and in a deserted cemetery with a guy I didn’t know who was already acting plenty fishy, I didn’t want to freak him out. Still, I was encouraged thinking that at least this time, I didn’t have to contend with the whole undead scenario. I knew this because the man had grabbed me to keep me from falling down, and when he did, I didn’t feel a bone-freezing chill (at least not one that was any colder than the air around us). Just to satisfy myself that I truly was dealing with flesh and bone, I pretended to brush his sleeve accidentally. He was real, all right, and satisfied, I drew back again.
When I did, the edge of my glove caught on one of the buttons on the sleeve of his jacket, pulling it up and revealing one grungy cuff of an equally grimy flannel shirt.
It was just enough to spark a memory of the day I’d first encountered him outside the restaurant. The scene played itself in my head—and in slow motion, to boot. I watched myself hand the man a dollar. I saw him stick out his hand to accept it. When he did, the sleeve of his jacket slid up, just like it did now.
And I realized what it was that had spooked him that night and made him hurry away.
“You weren’t wearing a flannel shirt that first night I saw you outside Piece.”
Big points for Mr. Homeless, he didn’t contradict me. He did look surprised, though—plenty surprised—and while he was still processing what I said, I closed in (figuratively speaking, of course, since he wasn’t all that clean looking and I wasn’t all that eager to make new friends).
“You were wearing a dress shirt that night. A dress shirt with French cuffs. And you forgot you had it on until your jacket sleeve sneaked up. You didn’t want me to see it. That’s why you grabbed my money and hurried away. What, you thought taking off your cuff links would make you look more homeless?”
“You’ve got a good eye.”
That went without saying, but it wasn’t going to distract me. “You’re a cop.”
“You think?”
“I think homeless people don’t wear business shirts, heavy on the starch.”
“How do you know it was heavy on the starch?”
“Give me some credit,” I said, the better to let him know that I wasn’t just some moron with no fashion sense who, number one, hadn’t been engaged to a guy who was just as fashion conscious as I was and number two, didn’t date (if what Quinn and I did could be called dating) a guy who knew what was what when it came to the right way to dress. (And to undress, for that matter, but that wasn’t something I wanted to consider at the moment.) “Why are you following me?”
“Why are you so interested in the Gerard Clinic?”
“Why are you?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. “You’ve got your eye on Doctor Gerard. And Dan. You weren’t just hanging around outside the restaurant that night, you were waiting for them. You were following them. That’s why I’ve seen you outside the clinic, too. You’re doing surveillance, though I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think it qualifies as undercover. Not if you’re careless enough to forget to change your office shirt to one that’s a little more in keeping with the whole I’m-a-poor-homeless-person thing. And since you’re not—homeless, that is . . . how about giving me back that buck I gave you?”
“You referred to Mr. Callahan by his first name. You must be friends.”
“And you must be delusional if you think I’m going to give him up to some cop playing dress-up.” This was one of those classic comebacks that was too good to waste. For emphasis and to show him I meant business, I quickened my pace.
He was apparently not as into great scene-ending lines. He hurried to catch up. “Do you know something you could give him up for?”
“Do you think if I did, I’d spill my guts to some guy I don’t know?”
“What if I told you you’d be better off if you did?”
“Is that a threat?”
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped and turned to him, my chin raised, until I already had. He was only a hair taller than me, and my guess was that he wasn’t used to people confronting him so openly. His chin came up, too.
“I don’t need to threaten,” he said. “But if you’re smart, you’ll listen to a warning.”
“Oh no!” Whether he knew it or not, he had spoken the magic word. Warnings were something I was sick to death of getting from Dan. I wasn’t going to fall into that trap again. “Don’t even start. No talk of things that go bump in the night, OK? Not unless the thing that’s bumping is that creepy shadow that’s been following me around, and you can explain what it is and what it wants and—” Since we were standing so close, I knew exactly when I spooked him. That would have been when what I was saying sank in and he backstepped away. And his expression went from stony, to curious, to just a little apprehensive.
I regrouped. “OK, so you’re not going to warn me about ghosts and such. Good. That’s not something I want to talk about. But that means you were going to warn me about real things, right? Things like—”
“How about things like breaking the law?” He regrouped, too, and now that I’d stopped talking crazy, he went back to stony in an instant.
“I wouldn’t dream of breaking the law.”
“Then how about what you know about your friend Mr. Callahan breaking the law?”
I threw my hands in the air. As far as I was concerned, there was no better way to demonstrate my feelings and distance myself from the half-truth I was about to fling as casually as if it was the bouquet I never got to throw at the wedding that never happened. “Can’t say he has,” I pointed out, because, let’s face it, to date, I hadn’t found a thing to prove or disprove Madeline’s theory, either about Doctor Gerard or Dan. “And just for the record, I can’t believe he ever would. Dan Callahan is a nice, regular, ethical guy, and even if I thought he was doing something wrong, I wouldn’t tell you. Because you know what? Even if you’re one of the good guys, I don’t trust you. There’s the whole scamming-a-buck-from-me thing, to begin with. And the fact that anybody who would try to get away with a disguise as hokey as yours can’t be very good at what he does. So unless you’ve got an actual reason to talk to me—which you don’t—and unless you’ve got some legitimate reason to follow me—which you don’t—and unless you show up with a subpoena or a writ or whatever the hell you police types call it when you force people to talk even when they don’t want to talk and they don’t have anything to say anyway—which you never will since you don’t have any of those other things to begin with and that means you could never get a subpoena or a writ or a whatever—”
“Are you done?”
I was, but only because I’d run out of air.
He didn’t bother to say good-bye.
Something told me it didn’t matter, since it wasn’t the last I was going to see of him.
I watched him walk away, and before he was out of sight, I followed. He was headed for the front gate, and I was anxious to get out of the place.
“Told you I was right.”
I didn’t jump and squeal when Madeline popped up beside me.
Not too much, anyway.
My sneer told her what I thought of her tactics. “You mean, I was right. He’s following Doctor Gerard. And Dan. He thinks I can tell him something about what they’re up to. He’s a cop.”
“He’s an FBI agent. And I was right.” Madeline didn’t have to worry about the slick patch of ice in the middle of the road. I walked around it. She floated right above. “You see what this means, don’t you?”
“It means—”
“It means the net is closing on Danny.”
“That’s what I was going to say.”
“Sure you were.” I’d never heard anybody agree about anything in a more condescending way. “It’s time to stop messing around, Pepper, and do something. Fast. You have to help Danny, or something really, really bad is going to happen to him.”
 
 
I could have said I didn’t care. I could have mentioned that whatever Dan had gotten himself into, he could get himself out of.
I could have brought up the not-so-small point that I still wasn’t convinced I wasn’t on a wild goose chase.
Except for the fact that the feds were onto Dan, and something told me they didn’t like to waste their time.
And then, of course, there was that little voice inside of me. The one that told me that if my appearance at the clinic had anything to do with Stella going under that train . . .
Well, if it did, that meant I owed her.
That’s why just an hour or so later—after I found a cab and headed to the other side of town—I found myself at the Gerard Clinic again. This time, I wasn’t going to mess around. I was going to march in, demand to talk to Dan about each and every one of the people on that list Sister Maggie had given me, and get to the bottom of things once and for all.
And I would have done it, too, if I didn’t see something odd just inside the alley that Ernie called home sweet home.
Something square and flat caught the light of a nearby streetlamp and sparkled at me from the murky shadows. Something that looked like it was covered with glass.
I took the chance, stepped into the alley, and bent for a closer look.
“Alberta?” I picked up the framed photo of Ernie’s wife and automatically glanced around. Every other time I’d seen the picture, Ernie had been hanging on to it for dear life. I knew that once he realized the photo was missing, he’d panic, so I carefully picked my way through the garbage in the alley and headed for his box.
I knocked on the lid. “Ernie!”
“He ain’t there.”
The answer came from a doorway along with a man in a tattered jacket who was in the process of zipping his pants. “Ernie’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“Lucky bastard. I hear he got himself accepted into that special study of Doctor Gerard’s.”
My heart thudded. “Are you . . .” I swallowed hard. Not easy considering that my mouth suddenly felt as dry as a sun-parched desert. “Are you sure?”
The man was pencil thin and hardly taller than the Dumpster he opened and began picking through. “Not sure, no,” he said. When he fished out all that was left of a brown and battered apple and took a bite, I turned away. “But he said he had an appointment. Last night. He said he was going to talk to Doctor Gerard because he finally knew how to get into the study for sure. And since then, well, nobody’s seen him. Hey!” When the man plucked at my sleeve, I turned back to him. “Since he ain’t using it, think I can move into Ernie’s box?”
“No.” I shook him off, tucked the photo of Alberta into Ernie’s box, and started for the clinic, my mind made up once and for all. “Ernie will be back,” I told the man, and myself. “No matter what it takes, Ernie will be back. Because I’m going to go in there right now and find out what the hell is really going on.”
I did, too. I went into the clinic, demanded an appointment, filled out the appropriate forms, and waited with the great unwashed.
And when the gray-haired receptionist finally called my name and told me Doctor Gerard would see me? Well, I have to admit, I was actually jazzed.
But then, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Night of the Loving Dead
titlepage.xhtml
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_000.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_001.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_002.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_003.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_004.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_005.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_006.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_007.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_008.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_009.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_010.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_011.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_012.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_013.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_014.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_015.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_016.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_017.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_018.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_019.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_020.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_021.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_022.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_023.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_024.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_025.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_026.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_027.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_028.html
Casey Daniels - Pepper Martin 4 - Night of the Loving Dead_split_029.html