"It's a calculated risk," I said. "We need to find out what Grevane wanted with you."

"And we're taking me to work… why?"

"Think about it. What would have happened if they'd found you missing, blood all over the place, the building ransacked, and Phil's corpse lying in the morgue or on the lawn outside?"

"Someone would have gotten fired," Butters said.

"Yeah. And they would have locked down the building to search for evidence. And they would have grabbed you and locked you away somewhere, for questioning at least."

"So?" Butters asked.

"If Grevane cleaned up what happened at the morgue, it means he didn't want too much official attention focused there. Whatever he wants from you, I'm betting it's still in the building." I pulled into the industrial park. "We have to find it."

"Eduardo Mendoza?" he asked me.

"Offhand, I can't think of any other reason for someone to want to grab your friendly neighborhood assistant medical examiner," I said. "Grevane's got to be interested in a corpse at the morgue, and that one was the only one that seemed a little odd."

"Harry," Butters said, "if this guy really is a necromancer—a wizard of the dead—then why the hell would he need a plain old vanilla science nerd like me?"

"That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question," I said. "And we have another reason, too."

"The museum doctor guy, right?" Butters asked.

I nodded at him and parked in the lot next to Butters's ruined little truck. "Right. I need to know what killed him. Hell, any information could be useful."

Butters exhaled. "Well. I don't know what I'll be able to manage."

"Anything is more than I have now."

He looked around warily. "Do you think… do you think Grevane or his buddy is out there right now? Watching for… you know… me?"

I pulled open my coat and showed Butters my shoulder holster and gun. Then I reached behind me and drew out my staff from the back of the SUV "If they show up, I'm going to ruin their whole day."

He chewed on his lip. "You can do that, right?"

I took a look around and said, "Butters, trust me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's ruining people's day."

He let out a nervous little laugh. "You can say that again."

"If there's one thing I'm good at—" I began. Butters punched me lightly on the arm, and I smiled at him. "We'll get in and out as quick as we can, get you back under cover. I think we've got it under control."

I killed the SUV's ignition and pulled out the key. The truck shuddered, and a warbling, wailing sound came from the dashboard. For a second I expected someone to shout, "Red alert, all hands to battle stations!" Instead there was a hiccup of sound from the truck, and then a smooth, recorded voice reported, "Warning. The door is ajar. The door is ajar."