Shadowfires

the call on the wall phone by the refrigerator, and it was
not a reporter. It was Everett Kordell, chief medical examiner for
the city of Santa Ana, phoning from the morgue. A serious problem had
arisen, and he needed to speak to Mrs. Leben.
    “I’m a family friend,” Ben said. “I'm taking all calls for her.”
    “But
I've got to speak to her personally,” the medical examiner insisted. “It's
urgent.
    “Surely you can understand that Mrs. Leben has had a difficult
day. I'm afraid you'll simply have to deal with me.”
    “But she's got to come downtown,” Kordell said plaintively.
    “Downtown? You mean to the morgue? Now?”
    “Yes. Right away.”
    “Why?”
    Kordell hesitated. Then, “This is embarrassing and frustrating,
and I assure you that
it'll all he straightened out sooner or later, probably very soon, but… well, Eric Leben's
corpse is missing.”
    Certain that he'd misunderstood, Ben said, “Missing?”
    “Well… perhaps misplaced,” Everett Kordell said nervously.
    “ Perhaps?”
    “ Or perhaps… stolen.”
    Ben got a few more details, hung up, and turned to Rachael.
    She was hugging herself, as if in the grip of a sudden chill. “The
morgue, you said?”
    He nodded. “The damn incompetent bureaucrats have apparently lost
the body.”
    Rachael was very pale, and her eyes had a haunted look. But,
curiously, she did not appear to be surprised by the startling
news.
    Ben had the strange feeling that she had been waiting for this
call all evening.

----
4 DOWN
WHERE THEYKEEP THE
DEAD
    To Rachael, the condition of the medical
examiner's office was evidence that Everett Kordell was an obsessive-compulsive personality. No papers, books, or files cluttered his desk. The blotter was new, crisp, unmarked. The pen-and-pencil set, letter opener, letter tray, and silver-framed pictures of his family were precisely arranged. On the shelves behind his desk were two hundred or three hundred books in such pristine condition and so evenly placed that they almost appeared to be part of a painted backdrop. His diplomas and two anatomy charts were hung on the walls with an exactitude that made Rachael wonder if he checked their alignment every morning with ruler and plumb line.
    Kordell's preoccupation with neatness and orderliness was also evident in his appearance. He was tall and almost excessively lean, about fifty, with a sharp-featured ascetic face and clear brown eyes. Not a strand of his graying, razor-cut hair was out of place. His long-fingered hands were singularly spare of flesh, almost skeletal. His white shirt looked as if it had been laundered only five minutes ago, and the straight creases in each leg of his dark brown trousers were so sharp they almost glinted in the fluorescent light.
    When Rachael and Benny were settled in a pair of dark pine chairs
with forest-green leather cushions, Kordell went around the desk to
his own chair. “This is most distressing to me, Mrs. Leben-to add
this burden to what you've already been through today. It's quite
inexcusable. I apologize again and extend my deepest sympathies,
though I know nothing I say can make the matter any less disturbing.
Are you all right? Can I get you a glass of water or anything?”
    “I'm okay,” Rachael said, though she could not remember ever feeling worse.
    Benny reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. Sweet,
reliable Benny. She was so glad he was with her. At five eleven and a
hundred fifty pounds, he was not physically imposing. With brown
hair, brown eyes, and a pleasing but ordinary face, he seemed like a
man who would vanish in a crowd and be virtually invisible at a
party. But when he spoke in that soft voice of his, or moved with his
uncanny grace, or just looked hard at you, his sensitivity and
intelligence were instantly discernible. In his own quiet way, he had
the impact of a lion's roar. Everything would be easier with Benny at her side, but she worried about getting him involved in this.
    To the medical examiner, Rachael said, “I just want to understand
what's happened.”
    But she was afraid that she understood more than Kordell.
    “I'll be entirely candid, Mrs. Leben,” Kordell said. “No point in being otherwise.” He sighed and shook his head as if he still had difficulty believing such a screwup had happened. Then he blinked, frowned, and turned to Benny. “You're
not Mrs. Leben's attorney, by any chance?”
    “Just an old friend,” Benny said.
    “Really?”
    “I'm here for moral