“Drugs? Body parts? Lunch?”
Morelli made another phone call and suggested that the chests be checked out on arrival in Nevada.
“I suppose we should try to rescue Briggs,” I said when Morelli finished his call.
“He’s not my favorite person,” Morelli said.
“He’s not anyone’s favorite person.”
We turned onto Route 1 and my phone rang.
It was Briggs. “Where the hell are you? I finally was able to get out by the skin of my teeth and you’re not here!”
“We’re ten minutes away,” I said. “We followed the white van to the airport, but we’re on our way back.”
“This clinic is creep central. I don’t know what the heck they do here but it involves dead people, and it smells bad.”
“How many dead people did you see?”
“Just the one. Isn’t that enough?”
“Is that what smells bad?”
“If the stiff smelled bad I wouldn’t know over the stench coming from the lounge. There’s some guy cooking something in the microwave that’s stinking up the whole floor. I heard someone call him Abu.”
“Abu Darhmal,” I said.
Morelli looked over at me when I hung up. “He saw dead people?”
“One. And he managed to get out. He’s waiting for us in the lot.”
TWENTY-SIX
“I WAS GETTING lonely here,” Briggs said when we parked and got out of the car.
“We followed the Yeti to the airport and watched him hand over two insulated chests and leave. I imagine he came back here.”
Briggs shook his head. “He didn’t come back here. Nobody’s here. The doctor and the Abu guy just left. The only one who didn’t leave is the dead guy. Except I guess he could be in someone’s trunk since he isn’t in the hall anymore.”
Morelli looked at The Clinic. “It’s empty?”
“Yeah,” Briggs said. “The party’s over.”
Morelli got a flashlight from the Buick. “Let’s take a tour.”
There were no cars in the garage, just as Briggs had said. We entered the stairwell and climbed to the first floor in darkness. Morelli opened the door and we moved into the first-floor hall. Also dark. We walked the length of it, returned to the stairwell, and went up another flight. The second-floor hall had path lighting. Not so much that you could read by it, but enough that Morelli didn’t need his flashlight.
We did a quick check of the empty offices, crossed the lobby past the elevator bank and reception desk, and aimed light into the first patient room. It was just as I remembered it. Bed made. No sign of occupancy. En suite bathroom unused.
Morelli flashed light into the second patient room, and I saw that the bed was stripped bare. Somebody had been in the bed and now they were gone, I thought. The guy with the feet.
“This is different from when I was here,” I said. “This bed was made up when I was here.”
We looked through the room and the bathroom, but found no left-behind personal effects. There was a lingering smell of antiseptic. The room had recently been cleaned.
“Where did you see the feet?” I asked Briggs.
“In the hall here, outside this room.”