"They do if they've died of natural causes. We get everything else. Homicide victims, suicides, accidents, any death of a suspicious or unusual nature. Most of those are autopsied and then released to a mortuary in a relatively short period of time. Of the ten we have on hand, some are indigents. A couple of 'em are John Does we're holding in hopes we'll get a positive I.D. Sometimes burial arrangements are pending so we hold a body for the next of kin. Two we've had around for years. Franklin and Eleanor. Like mascots."

I crossed my arms, feeling chilled, shifting the subject back to the living. "Do you know Bobby very well?" I asked. I turned and leaned against the wall, watching him polish the faucet handles on the stainless-steel sink.

"I hardly know him at all. We worked different shifts."

"How long have you worked out here?"

"Five years."

"What else do you do with your time?"

He paused, looking up at me. He didn't seem to like the personal questions, but he was too polite to say so. "I'm a musician. I play jazz guitar."

I stared at him for a minute, hesitating. "Have you ever heard of Daniel Wade?"

"Sure. He was a local jazz pianist. Everybody's heard of him. He hasn't been around town in years, though. He a friend of yours?"

I moved away from the wall, taking up my rounds. "I was married to him once."

"Married to him?"

"That's right." There were some jars filled with a brackish liquid in which body parts were marinating. I wondered if there might be a pickled heart tucked in among all the livers, kidneys, and spleens.

Kelly went back to his work. "Incredible musician," he remarked in a tone of voice that was part caution, part respect.

"That he is," I said, smiling at the irony. I never talked about this stuff and it seemed odd to be doing it in an autopsy room to a morgue attendant in surgical greens.

"What happened to him?" Kelly asked.

"Nothing. He was in New York last I heard. Still playing his music, still on drugs."

He shook his head. "God, the talent that guy has. I never really knew him, but I used to see him every chance I got. I can't understand why he never got anywhere."

"The world is full of talented people."

"Yeah, but he's smarter than most – At least from what I heard."

"Too bad I wasn't as smart as he was. I could have saved myself a lot of grief I said. Actually, the marriage, though brief, had been the best few months of my life, Daniel had the face of an angel back then , . . clear blue eyes, a cloud of yellow curls. He always reminded me of some artist's rendering of a Catholic saint – lean and beautiful, ascetic-looking, with elegant hands and an unassuming air. He exuded innocence. He just couldn't be faithful, couldn't lay off" the drugs, couldn't stay in one place. He was wild and funny and corrupt, and if he came back today, I can't swear I'd turn him down, whatever he asked.