Speak for the Dead Read Free Page B

or the heavy leaves glinting in the pale light. In his mind, he held side by side the living green of plants and the dead flesh of the head. The two things together meant something.
    A clatter at the lobby doors pulled him back; the day shift of lab technicians came in followed by a tall Anglo whose white hair still sprouted sleep in ruffled thrusts. Behind him, very quiet, Solano chewed his lip. The white-haired man, who must have been Sumner, talked loudly over the echo of the stream: “These are very delicate specimens—they shouldn’t be disturbed at all, and I’m quite upset that your people pursued their activities without first checking with me!”
    The lead technician from the day shift, new to Wager, bent to gaze at the head, then grunted to Baird, “Morning. Why don’t you go get some breakfast?”
    Fred snorted something like a laugh and began packing his kit. “Right. Breakfast. I’ll just go, thanks. The M.E.’s been called, my samples are over there, I’ve dusted the immediate area. Good-bye.”
    “What’s this powder on my bignoniacea?” Sumner pointed to a tree trunk.
    “It’s fingerprint powder—like talcum powder,” answered Baird. “Nothing toxic: will not harm, will not stain. It’ll rinse right off.”
    “But it will get into the soil!”
    “It’s magnesium silicate and aluminum—hardly enough for a trace.”
    “How much more do you intend to throw around?”
    Baird snapped the hasp on his kit. “Maybe some on the doors, but that should be it. These gentlemen would like to search the area systematically and look for footprints, cigarette butts, that sort of thing. Most of the search will be along the paths.”
    “But that’s where we place our choice growth! We have over six hundred specimens, and many are extremely delicate!”
    Wager stepped forward. “They’ll be real careful, Mr. Sumner.”
    The second of the two lab men nodded. “We’ll take good care, sir. I’m a plant freak myself. Ferns. Love ‘em.”
    “Well, yes, the asplenia are very nice, but …”
    “And,” added Wager, “we wouldn’t want to leave any hands or feet lying around, now, would we?”
    “Oh. Oh my. I didn’t think of that.” Sumner’s round eyes of anger turned into round eyes of horror. He peered this way and that among his plants.
    “Let’s go back to the lobby, Mr. Sumner. Maybe you can answer a few questions for me,” said Wager.
    “Questions?”
    “About the routine of locking up the place and such.”
    “Ah, well, that’s usually Mauro’s job. Dominick Mauro. He’s the senior assistant utility worker.”
    “Was he the one to lock up last night?”
    “I believe so; I’ll have to look at the charts to be certain. He should be here at ten.”
    That would be unauthorized overtime—without pay. It would piss off the police union, but there wasn’t anything in the bulldog’s procedure manual against pissing off the police union. Which Wager sort of enjoyed doing anyway. “Solano is the one who comes early?”
    “Yes.” Sumner relaxed for the first time, and it made his white hair look incongruous against the sudden youthfulness of his lean face. Wager guessed he was a little past fifty, but his hands moved like those of a younger man. “We’re very fortunate with those two: Salvador doesn’t like to sleep late, and Nick doesn’t like to get up early.” The tension came back. “They’re both very trusted and long-time employees, Inspector. State employees.”
    “Yes, sir. Do any other employees have keys to the outside doors?”
    “Keys? I was just looking at the key chart the other day… . We have very few keys that unlock the outer doors. I have one. The conservatory superintendent, Mr. Weimer, has one. And the chairman of our board of trustees. Though I don’t think he’s ever used it. Oh, yes, there’s the emergency key that’s kept in Greenhouse One. That makes six.”
    “What’s the chairman’s name?”
    “Mr. Klipstein. Gerald Klipstein.” Sumner