“All I wanna do is ask if they knew Tori.”

“I’ll ask for you, sir. If I learn something, I’ll call you. That’s a promise.”

“Promises, promises,” said Giacomo. “It’s a free country. Nothing illegal about going over there.”

“Interfering with an investigation’s illegal, sir. Please don’t complicate your life.”

“That a kinda threat?”

“It’s a request not to interfere. If I learn anything about Tori, I’ll tell you.” Milo put money on the table and stood.

Lou Giacomo got up, too. Picked up his red suitcase and fished in a rear pants pocket. “I’ll pay for my own beer.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry, worrying’s a waste of time. I’ll pay for my own beer.” Giacomo pulled out a wallet stuffed so thick it was nearly round. Taking out a five, he tossed it near Milo’s cash.

“If I call your medical examiners, ask about unclaimed bodies, what’re they gonna tell me?”

“What makes you think that happened to Tori, Mr. Giacomo?”

“I was watching this show on cable. Forensics detectives, something like that. They said bodies don’t get claimed, sometimes you do a DNA, solve an old case. So what would they tell me if I asked?”

“If a decedent is identified and someone offers proof of family relationship, they’re given forms to fill out and the body can be released.”

“Is it one of those long pain-in-the-ass red-tape things?”

“It can usually be done in two, three days.”

“How long do they keep ’em around?” said Giacomo. “Unclaimed bodies.”

Milo didn’t answer.

“How long, Lieutenant?”

“Legally, the maximum’s a year but it’s usually sooner.”

“How much sooner?”

“It can be thirty to ninety days.”

“Whoa. In and out, huh?” said Giacomo. “What, you got a dead body traffic jam?”

Milo was impassive.

“Even if it’s a murder?” pressed Giacomo. “For a murder they got to keep it around, right?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t they need to hold on to it for all that forensic stuff?”

“Evidence is collected and stored. What’s not...necessary isn’t kept.”

“What, some union flunky’s getting paid off to ditch bodies?” said Giacomo.

“There’s a space issue.”

“Same deal even with murder?”

“Same deal,” said Milo.

“Okay, then what? Where does the body go if nobody claims it?”

“Sir— ”

“Just tell me.” Giacomo buttoned his jacket. “I’m one of those people, meets crap face-to-face, don’t do no running away. I never fought in no wars but the marines trained me to deal. What’s the next step?”

“The county crematorium.”

“They burn it...okay, what happens to the ashes?”