Never Happened

by Debra Webb

  “Eventually,” Shannon said covertly. Alex imagined her craning her neck to make sure Marg wasn’t listening. She didn’t like that Shannon and Alex kept such close tabs on her.

  “Keep an eye on her.” Alex thought back to how her mom had forgone her usual third-date sex last night. Maybe sweating to the oldies had only put off the inevitable. She and Robert could have rendezvoused this morning. “We may have to stage another intervention.”

  “Will do. What’s the favor you needed?” Shannon asked, returning her attention to the reason for Alex’s call.

  “How about checking the Herald for anything on an explosion over in Morningside. Happened sometime last night.”

  Another call came in and Shannon promised to get back to her as soon as she took care of the call and checked the paper.

  Alex pulled out onto the street, her mind rolling over and over the idea that Henson was dead. She would miss him. There was no way to deny that. She couldn’t help wondering now if she’d made a mistake walking away.

  “Enough, Alex.” What was she doing? Just because the guy was dead she was going all freaky. Henson was not the one. No one was the one. She was happy with her life just the way it was. No one was sorrier than her that he was dead, but she had to get past this obsession with what she hadn’t said or done.

  It was that stupid contact lens. If she hadn’t found it and called him about it, maybe he’d still be alive. That was the part that really bothered her. Whether Patton wanted to take what she said seriously or not, there was something to it. The part that really disturbed her was the call she’d gotten from Henson last night. He’d sounded so excited. The guy who did the analysis had to have given him some pretty juicy feedback to get Henson that pumped. And why had he driven toward Hallandale after picking up the analysis? He didn’t live in that direction and hadn’t mentioned letting anyone else look at the evidence last night. It didn’t make sense. Maybe he had intended to let someone else have a look-see. Another cop who kept the same kind of hours he did.

  But wouldn’t that have been his partner?

  She supposed not, since Patton had been at the hospital welcoming his new daughter into the world. Maybe Henson and his partner hadn’t bonded closely enough in the past six months for Henson to share his obsession with all things electronic.

  The idea that something was wrong with the scenario just kept nagging at her.

  Alex drove, her destination uncertain. She couldn’t go to the scene of the explosion in Morningside until Shannon called her back with an exact location. No point in checking out the crash site where Henson’s car had been found; the cops had already been over it and the car was in the hands of forensics.

  There was just one thing she could do right now.

  Go to the morgue.

  The concept was a fairly simple one that had only just occurred to her. The old guy who’d blown off half his head had two eyes—or at least he did before he opted to discharge a .45 into his skull. Most folks who chose contacts over eyeglasses wore two. Maybe there was still one attached to the guy’s intact eye.

  Anticipation fired through her.

  Only one way to find out.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the cops to do their job. She did, usually. But she’d been doing this job long enough to know she didn’t have anything to prompt their attention, to make them look beyond the obvious. Cops operated under the rule of probable cause. Unless something at the scene of Henson’s crash looked suspicious or some foul play involving his car was discovered, the case would be ruled accidental. End of story.

  Henson had been a damned good cop. Not only was he good at his job, he truly cared. That was exactly why he’d chosen to run the contact lens through some preliminary analysis when any other cop would have dismissed it. There really wasn’t any reason to suspect the contact lens was anything relevant. It was just weird looking. But, because the lens was so unusual and Henson had a thing for the odd, he had wanted to be sure. That was just the kind of cop he was. Thorough. Dedicated. Maybe even a little hopeful that he’d be the detective who busted some big spy ring or something.

  Damn she was going to miss that guy.

  The Morgue Bureau was part of an imposing three-building complex nestled amid a couple of lushly landscaped acres on the perimeter of the University of Miami Medical School Center. South Florida tropical trees, shrubs and bushes indigenous to the area highlighted the meticulously cared for landscape.

  Inside, the elegant furnishings, potted palms, soft lighting and smiling receptionist would almost make one think of a ritzy resort hotel. At least until you read the mission statement above the front desk:

  To provide accurate, timely, dignified, compassionate and professional death investigative services for the citizens of Miami-Dade County.

  That stopped any warm, fuzzy feelings dead in their tracks.

  As far as Alex was concerned the luxurious details were wasted on most visitors to the Joseph H. Davis Center for Forensics Pathology considering they were dead. But, hey, the place looked great. Didn’t even smell like a morgue. Special electronic air filters erased the unmistakable odors of formaldehyde and decomposing bodies.

  Alex waved to the receptionist but didn’t bother checking in. She’d been here enough times to know her way around and headed straight for the work area of an old friend, Cody Feldman, an evidence courier. If he wasn’t in she’d just have to try her luck with an assistant medical examiner she’d dated a couple of times. But Cody would be far easier to…coax into doing what she wanted. He had a thing for Alex.

  A smile stretched across her lips as she recalled the last time they’d gone out. A couple of months ago. Friday night. Dinner and a movie had been on the agenda but they’d never made it out of her house.

  What could she say?

  Cody was totally cute. Really young with amazing stamina.

  He’d been fun.

  She pretty much blew him off after a couple more dates. Not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed more but he was one of those young guys who got too attached. In every other way he’d been totally unlike Henson. Cody had been a good change for her until, like Henson, he’d started to get clingy. Why did her every thought have to lead back to Henson.

  Dammit.

  Although they hadn’t dated in a while she and Cody were still friends. She ran into him now and again since they frequented the same night spots.

  It was good to have friends in all kinds of places. It was also good to know how to use those assets to one’s advantage when the cause was right. She felt certain Henson would appreciate her efforts.

  Alex poked her head through the open door to his tiny office. “Hey, Cody.” At least someone had an office smaller than hers.

  He glanced up from his computer, then did a double take. “Alex.” A couple of medical journals and an empty foam cup hit the floor as he shot up out of his chair. “What’re you doing here?” He blushed. “I mean…”

  Her smile made the transition into a full-blown grin. The guy was adorable when he was all embarrassed and looking flustered. Only a man under the age of twenty-five could still do that and look so sweet. “Good to see you, too.”

  He pushed his desk chair toward her. “Have a seat.” Glancing around his cluttered space he couldn’t seem to decide what to say next. Inspiration belatedly struck. “You want some coffee? Nancy just made a fresh pot.” He hitched his thumb toward the end of the hall where the lounge could be found. “She makes the best.” He licked his lips and blinked as if he’d abruptly drawn a big old blank.

  Alex shook her head. “No thanks. I’m good.” She moved a little farther into his territory, pushing the chair out of her way as she went. “I need to ask a favor,” she offered humbly.

  He opened his arms wide. “Sure. Anything.”

  His face had gone from pink to red. Alex was pretty sure he’d just remembered one night in particular when she’d made him beg for mercy.

  That was the thing about being a mature wo
man and dating a younger guy. They were so easily amused.

  Alex took a moment to appreciate her friend’s casually sexy appearance. His trousers were navy, one of her favorite colors, his shirt was striped in a paler blue, yellow and green. The shirttail was untucked on one side. Not a fashion statement, simply a result of his slightly nerdish predisposition. The brown loafers were polished. His face clean shaven. His dark hair tousled and his gray eyes clear and bright. Maybe they’d go out again sometime, when he’d gotten over the whole I-want-to-be-with-you-forever syndrome.

  “You got a stiff last night—”

  His eyes suddenly widened and his face paled as if he’d been caught doing something that would get him seriously grounded.

  Alex laughed softly. “Not that kind of stiff, Cody, the other kind.” She’d been hanging around with too many cops and was picking up all their slang.

  “Oh.” The pink started to creep up from his collar again. “We got five last night.”

  She nodded. “Detective Rich Henson worked this case. Caucasian, in his late fifties or early sixties, took a .45 to his head.”

  “Yeah.” Recognition flared in his expression. “I imagine that was a real mess.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll never understand why these guys don’t consider the mess they’re going to leave when they opt for the suicide route.”

  Cody was nodding in agreement.

  “You think it’d be a problem if I took another look at the body?”

  A flicker of hesitation had her hastily adding, “The guy doesn’t have any family. And the cops have pretty much closed the case. There’s just something I’m curious about.”

  Still looking a little unsure, he said, “He’s scheduled for the full treatment tomorrow morning. Letting you look at him wouldn’t really be—”

  He was on the verge of saying no. “I swear I won’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. I just need to check one little thing.” She held her breath, then quickly added in hopes of alleviating any final reservations he might have, “It’s not like I haven’t already seen him.” The full treatment was a no holds barred complete autopsy. Everyone got the full treatment unless the family requested otherwise.

  He checked his watch. “I don’t guess there’d be any harm. Like you said you’ve already seen him…been in the same room with him.” Their eyes locked. “Just let me make sure the cooler is…ah…clear.”

  “I really appreciate it.” She gave him her best you’re-my-hero look of gratitude.

  “I’ll be back in thirty seconds,” he promised as he backed out of his office.

  She couldn’t be certain whether he backed out because he was afraid she’d follow him or if he feared she’d disappear before he got back. A quick peek out the door confirmed her conclusion that he would probably run the whole distance to the cooler.

  Leaning against the door frame to watch for his return she couldn’t help thinking that men were like puppies—she adored them but she didn’t want to have to clean up after one on a regular basis. She liked her total independence. She didn’t have to answer to anyone. How many women her age could say that? How many others looked back on their lives and considered all they would change if given the opportunity.

  Not Alex. She wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, being alone hadn’t always been rosy, but she felt completely satisfied with who she was, where she’d been and where she was going. That was an accomplishment in and of itself.

  That big ol’ grin Henson liked to flash at her popped into her head and suddenly she didn’t feel so sure of all she’d just affirmed. She blinked away the image. She had to be hormonal. She never had this much trouble with self-doubt.

  True to his word, Cody was back in about half a minute. “This way.” He gestured in the direction from which he’d just returned.

  Alex let him lead the way though she knew the route. The few times she’d visited had been when she’d been dating another member of the esteemed staff. Way before Cody’s time.

  Cody checked the log sheet and headed for the drawer where Charlie Crane awaited two things, an autopsy and then for the state to claim his body since there was no next of kin. En route her guide pointed to a box of latex gloves stationed on a counter. Alex had them in place before Cody had rested his hand on the pull of the cooler drawer.

  With one last fleeting look at the door, he lugged the drawer open. As if having second thoughts, he hesitated before lowering the zipper on the body bag. “Make it quick, okay? And be really careful not to…well, you know.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  He opened the bag that helped to keep the body fresh while in a refrigerated state.

  With the old guy’s upper torso and what was left of his head fully exposed to her, Cody backed away. “I’ll keep watch outside.”

  She nodded and he left her to her business.

  It wasn’t that Alex got any kind of thrill out of touching a dead guy, but this had to be done.

  Working quickly, she first surveyed what was left of his head. His body was nude so anything he’d had in his pockets would be beyond her reach at this point. It would take an act of congress or proof of kinship to get her hands on his personal effects.

  The right eye remained intact and exactly where it should be in its socket.

  “Okay, Charlie,” she murmured. “Let’s have a look.”

  Gingerly, she lifted the eyelid and surveyed the eyeball. She shuddered, couldn’t help herself. The body changed drastically after twenty-four hours without blood flowing through the veins. The skin looked gray with the slightest marbling effect deep beneath the surface. The eyes were cloudy, the pupils fully dilated. The flesh was cold—that was the worst. Nothing smelled as creepy as chilled flesh. Her stomach knotted.

  Kicking aside her squeamishness, she touched the eyeball, sliding the pad of her finger over it. Nothing. Frowning, she checked again just to be sure.

  If he’d been wearing a second lens, it was gone now.

  “Dammit.”

  She zipped the bag carefully over what was left of Charlie Crane and closed the drawer. For a moment she just stood there, feeling sad for him. No one should die alone.

  Henson had died alone.

  The idea that she might very well die that way made her stomach spasm all over again. Of course there was always the chance her mother would outlive her. But what if she didn’t?

  Would she end up in the morgue with no family to claim her?

  Nah. Shannon would claim her. See that she got a proper funeral. At least as long as she was still alive.

  Despite her chosen career field, this was the first time Alex could recall consciously considering what would happen to her when she died. Other than the usual decomposition, that is.

  This whole thing with Henson had really shaken her up.

  Alex peeled off the gloves and disposed of them as she crossed the room. She opened the door and Cody whipped around with a start.

  “Finished?”

  He tried to look calm and composed but he didn’t fool her. He’d been sweating every second of the six or seven minutes she’d been in there.

  “Yeah. Thanks, man, I owe you.”

  Between that announcement and the whoosh of the door closing behind her, he relaxed. Looked downright ready to melt into a puddle of equal parts physical need and mental relief.

  “We could have dinner,” he suggested tentatively.

  Alex hooked her arm in his and headed toward his office. “We could.”

  “Name the night.” He was feeling cockier now, grinning like a kid looking forward to Christmas.

  Oh, yes, easily amused.

  She went on tiptoe and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  Giving him a show he wouldn’t soon forget, she strutted away. She didn’t have to look back to know he’d enjoyed every second of it.

  Men were so predictable.

  God love ’em.

  The driveway was empty when Alex arrived at the house
Charlie Crane had called home until he’d elected to end his existence. She scanned the neighborhood as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves. At half past ten in the morning most folks were either at work or on the beach. The morning was far too glorious to spend cooped up inside unless you were physically unable to get out and around.

  Alex was banking on the idea that the landlord hadn’t gotten around to taking care of the broken lock on Charlie’s apartment after the first cops on the scene had basically kicked in the door.

  And she was right. The door opened with a simple twist of the knob. The splintered wood on the interior side of the casing confirmed that the repairman hadn’t gotten around to the job yet. It wasn’t as if the landlord really cared. The stuff inside didn’t belong to him and this was one of the safest neighborhoods in the city. Break-ins and vandalism rarely occurred.

  After pushing the door shut behind her, she flipped on the overhead lights. The front door opened into the nondescript living room with its renter’s white walls and builder’s grade carpeting in the ever-popular sand color. A hall beyond the living room took her deeper into the house. She flipped on more lights as she went. It was broad daylight outside but the shuttered windows left the place in heavy shadows. The rest of the house was comprised of a kitchen, bathroom and three bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a den, complete with wood paneling.

  She searched the den first. She doubted she’d missed anything but she was here, might as well take a second look. Each drawer, shelf and niche. Nothing but magazines, papers and pens.

  Before moving on to the bathroom and bedrooms, she took a moment to riffle through the papers. She didn’t really expect to find anything. The likelihood of her recognizing something that shouldn’t be there was pretty low. Again, what the hell? Might as well check it out since she was here.

  Utility receipts. Rent receipts. Not much else to speak of outside the usual credit card invitations.