I thought about my office upstairs as I went out and pushed a button on the wall. The great door screeched open. Marino, in uniform, stood on its other side with two patrolmen and a detective. They ran past me to the autopsy suite, holsters unsnapped. I followed them and set my revolver on the counter because I did not think I would need it now. 'What the hell's going on?' Marino asked as he looked blankly at the body in its unzipped pouch. The other officers looked on, not seeing anything wrong. Then they looked at me and the revolver I had just set down. 'Dr. Scarpetta? What seems to be the problem?' asked the detective, whose name I did not know. I explained about the removal service while they listened with no expression on their faces. 'And he came in with what appears to be a note in his pocket. What police investigator would allow that? What police department is working this, for that matter? There's no mention of one,' I said, next pointing out that the head was bagged with a garbage bag tied with a shoelace. 'What does the note say?' asked the detective, who wore a belted dark coat, cowboy boots, and a gold Rolex that I was certain was counterfeit. 'I haven't touched it,' I said.
