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Stinking?"
    "You're dead!"
    "No. What's dead is that guy in there." Marino pointed at the container. "What's dead is your ass if you ever have to testify about this case in court."
    "Marino, come - on*" I said as the Crown Victoria brazenly drove onto the restricted dock.
    "Hey!" Shaw was running after it, waving his arms. "You can't park there!"
    "You're nothing but a used-up, washed-up, redneck loser;" Anderson said to Marino as she trotted off.
    Marino yanked off gloves inside out and freed himself of his blue plasticized paper booties by stepping down on the heel of each with the opposite toe. He picked up his soiled white uniform shirt by the clip-on tie, which didn't stay attached, so he stomped them as if they were a fire to put out. I quietly collected them and dropped them and mine into a red biological hazard bag.
    "Are you quite finished?" I asked him.
    "Ain't even begun," Marino said, staring out as the driver's door of the Crown Victoria opened and a uniformed male officer climbed out.
    Anderson rounded the side of the warehouse and walked quickly toward the car. Shaw was hurrying, too, dockworkers looking on as a striking woman in uniform and sparkling brass climbed out-of the back of the car. She looked around as the world looked back. Someone whistled. Someone else did. Then the dock sounded like referees protesting every foul imaginable.
    "Let me guess;" I said to Marino. "Bray:"

Black Notice (1999)

5
    The air was filled with the static of greedy flies, their volume turned up high by warm weather and time. The removal service attendants had carried the stretcher into the warehouse and were waiting for me.
    "Whooo," one of the attendants said, shaking his head, a bad expression on his face. "Lordy, lordy."
    "I know, I know," I said as I pulled on clean gloves and booties. "I'll go in first. This won't take long. I promise."
    "Fine by me, you want to go first."
    I went back inside the container and they came after me, choosing their steps carefully, stretcher held tight at their waists like a sedan chair. Their breathing was labored behind their surgical masks. Both were old and overweight and should not have been lifting heavy bodies anymore.
    "Get it by the lower legs and feet," I directed. "Real careful, because the skin's going to slip and come off. Let's get him by his clothing as best we can."
    They set down the stretcher and bent over the dead man's feet.
    "Lordy," one of them muttered again.
    I hooked my arms under the armpits. They took hold of the ankles.
    "Okay. Let's lift together on the count of three," I said. "One, two, three."
    The men struggled to maintain their balance. They huffed and backed up. The body was limp because rigor mortis.had come and left, and we centered it onto the stretcher and wrapped it in the sheet. I zipped up the body bag and the attendants carried their client away. They would drive him to the morgue, and there I would do all I could to make him talk to me.
    "Damn!" I heard one of them say. "They don't pay me enough for this."
    "Tell me."
    I followed them out of the warehouse into sunlight that was dazzling and air that was clean. Marino was still in his filthy undershirt, talking to Anderson and Bray on the dock. I gathered from the way he was gesturing that the presence of Bray had restrained him somewhat. Her eyes landed on me as I got close. She did not introduce herself, so I went first without offering my hand.
    "I'm Dr. Scarpetta," I said to her.
    She returned my greeting with vague regard, as if she had not a clue as to who I was or why I was there.
    "I think it would be a good idea for the two of us to talk;" I added.
    "Who did you say you are?" Bray asked.
    "Oh, for Chrissake!" Marino erupted. "She knows damn well who you are."
    "Captain." Bray's tone had the effect of a riding whip cracking.
    Marino got quiet. Anderson, did, too.
    "I'm the chief medical examiner." I told Bray what she already knew. "Kay Scarpetta."
    Marino rolled his eyes. Anderson's