“No note. No return address. Hard to say what Morelli knows.”
“You didn't tell him it came from Kenny?”
“I have no real proof that it came from Kenny, but the thing clearly had been embalmed, so the police will be checking funeral parlors. I imagine they'll want to know why you didn't report the . . . um, theft.”
“Maybe I should just come clean. Tell the cops about how crazy Kenny is. Tell them about the finger and about my apartment.”
“What about Con? You coming clean to him too? Is he still in the hospital?”
“Came home today. Got a week of rehab, and then he'll be back at work part-time.”
“He's not going to be happy when he finds out his clients have been getting parts whacked off.”
“Tell me about it. I've heard enough of his 'the body is holy' crap to last me three lifetimes. I mean, what's the big deal? It isn't like Loosey was gonna use his dick.”
Spiro dropped into the padded executive chair behind the desk and slid into a slouch. The mask of civility dropped from his face, and his sallow skin tightened over slanted cheekbones and pinched across spiky teeth as he morphed into Rodent Man. Furtive, foul-breathed, evil-spirited. Impossible to tell if he'd been born the rodent, or if years of schoolyard taunts had shaped his soul to suit his face.
Spiro leaned forward. "Yo
u know how old Con is? Sixty-two. Anyone else would be thinking retirement, but not Constantine Stiva. I'll be dead from natural causes, and Stiva'll still be kissing ass. He's like a snake with a heart rate of twelve. Pacing himself. Sucking formaldehyde like the elixir of life. Hanging on just to piss me off.
“Should have been cancer instead of a back injury. What the hell good is a back injury? You don't die from a damn back injury.”
“I thought you and Con got along.”
“He drives me nuts. Him and his rules and goody-goody attitude. You should see him in the embalming room. Everything just so. You'd think it was a fucking shrine down there. Constantine Stiva at the altar of the fucking dead. You know what I think of the dead? I think they stink.”
“Why do you work here?”
“There's money to be made, chicky. And I like money.”
I held myself tight in check to keep from physically recoiling. Here was the muck and slime of Spiro's brain, spilling out of every orifice, dribbling down his corded neck onto his pristine white undertaker's shirt. Butthead, all dressed up with no place to go. “Have you heard from Kenny since he broke into your apartment?”
“No.” Spiro turned broody. “Used to be we were friends. Him and Moogey and me used to do everything together. Then Kenny went into the army, and he got different. Thought he was smarter than the rest of us. Had all these big ideas.”
“Like what?”
“I can't tell you, but they were big. Not that I couldn't come up with ideas like that, but I'm busy with other stuff.”
“He include you in these big ideas? You make any money from them?”
“Sometimes he included me. You never knew with Kenny. He was slick. He'd hold out, and you never knew. He was like that with women. They all thought he was this cool guy.” Spiro's lips pulled back in a smile. “Used to crack us up how he'd play the faithful-till-death-do-us-part boyfriend role and all the while he'd be porking everyone in sight. He could really sucker women in. Even when he smacked them around they kept coming back for more. You had to admire the guy, you know. He had something. I've seen him burn women with cigarettes and stick them with pins, and they'd still suck up to him.”
The cheeseburger slid in my stomach. I didn't know who was more disgusting . . . Kenny for sticking pins in women, or Spiro for admiring him. “I should be moving along,” I said. “Got things to do.” Like maybe fumigating my mind after talking to Spiro.
“Wait a minute. I wanted to talk to you about security. You're an expert in this kind of stuff, right?”
I wasn't an expert at anything. “Right.”
“So, what should I do about Kenny? I was thinking about a bodyguard again. Just for at night. Someone to close up with me here, and make sure I got into my apartment okay. I figure I was lucky Kenny wasn't waiting for me in my apartment.”
“You're afraid of Kenny?”
“He's like smoke. You can't put your finger on him. He's always in a shadow somewhere. He watches people. He plans things.” Our eyes locked. “You don't know Kenny,” Spiro said. “Sometimes he's a real fun guy, and sometimes the things he thinks are pure evil. Believe me, I've seen him in action, you don't want to be on the receiving side of the evil.”
“I told you before . . . I'm not interested in guarding your body.”
He took a pack of twenties from his top desk drawer and counted them out. “Hundred dollars a night. All you have to do is get me into my apartment safe and sound. I'll take it from there.”