He pushed Joan’s chair out to his car. The foot well on the passenger side was filled with litter, and Joan sniffed in disgust when she saw it.
“Sorry,” he said. “I can get that.”
He gathered up the pile of fast-food wrappers and empty water bottles, and then placed it on the seat of the wheelchair. He walked the trash over to a garbage receptacle and returned the chair to the lobby.
He’d rarely worked a case as incomprehensible as this double homicide that only had one actual fatality. But he was determined to see it through to its conclusion. Whatever that might be.
When he and Joan were both in the car and buckled up, she said, “Richard, why not just drop me at home? We can shake hands and say good-bye. I’ll write a note to your superior saying how good you have been to me. You have been very nice.”
“Joan, there was a dead body of a man found in a bed with you. He has a family out there somewhere and they’re never going to see him again. Someone killed him.” He wanted to add, Does that ring a bell? but he bit down on the sarcasm. The last thing he wanted to do was drive his witness underground.
Joan said nothing in reply. She just looked out the window at rush hour traffic on Pine.
He continued, “We’re going to make a quick stop at the medical examiner’s office. Twenty minutes after that, you’ll be home.”
She said, “I know I said I would look at that man. But this isn’t easy for me, Richard. I have really bad memories of that place.”
“I know you do. But can you try to look at this a different way? Your unscheduled stop at the ME’s office was a blip in the span of your life. Now you’re alive and well, and you’re helping out the San Francisco Police Department. For about two minutes, you’re going to return to the site of a personal miracle.”
She looked at him dubiously.
Rich gave her one of his beautiful smiles and said, “I’m not going to leave your side. You want the sirens, Joan? Or shall we just enjoy the ride?”
She let out a good laugh.
“Sirens,” she said.
Conklin grinned at her.
He flipped on the sirens and the lights, and they headed toward the medical examiner’s office. He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Joan to Mr. John Doe. He had absolutely no idea—couldn’t even guess—what she would say or do when she looked at the man’s dead body.
But he had a feeling her reaction was going to surprise him.
Chapter 11
Conklin draped his Windbreaker around Joan Murphy’s narrow shoulders and walked her from Harriet Street to the ME’s office.
Claire was waiting for them at the open rear door. She gently placed her arm around Joan and told her how glad she was to see her.
“How’s that shoulder? Are you feeling okay?” Claire asked.
“The pain pills are telling me that I feel just fine.” Joan Murphy’s smile faded as she looked around the autopsy suite. She stiffly walked with Claire and Richie into the cool room in the back. There, she took in the sight of the stacked stainless-steel drawers that were holding bodies of the dead.
Claire said cautiously, “Are you ready, Joan? I’m going to open the drawer now.”
Joan Murphy shook her head and said, “I’m never going to be ready for this. But let’s get it over with.”
Claire slid the drawer open slowly. Wisps of brown hair peeked out over the top of the crisp sheet, followed by a long topographical stretch of white. The sight before them terminated with a man’s knobby toes.
Claire carefully folded the sheet down below John Doe’s chin.
Conklin stood beside Joan as she peered down at the dead man’s blanched and chubby face. To Rich, the man’s features were unremarkable. He looked like a typical suburban dad, the kind of guy who would watch out for the kids on the block, was handy around the house, and didn’t fool around at the office.
Clearly, his appearance didn’t square with the circumstances in which his body had been discovered.
Joan stared at the corpse for a long moment. Then she seemed almost indignant when she said, “I’m supposed to know this person?”
Conklin looked past Joan to Claire. Their eyes met. He said, “Joan, this is the man who was found dead, naked, and in bed with you in room three twenty-one at the Warwick. His wallet was stolen. We’re trying to identify him and it’s only a matter of time before we’re successful. And we could do it faster and better if you can give us a name or a lead.”