Free 3 Blood Lines by Tanya Huff

knelt by the body and frowned.
    His partner, Dave Graham, leaned over his shoulder and whistled through his teeth. “Someone’s got quite the grip.”
    Celluci grunted in agreement. Purple and green bruises circled the left wrist, brilliantly delineating the marks of four fingers and a thumb. The left arm lay stretching away from the body.
    “He got dropped when he died,” Dave said quietly.
    “That’d be my guess. Check out the face.”
    “No expression.”
    “Right first time. No fear; no pain; no surprise; no nothing. No record of the last few minutes of life at all.”
    “Drugs?”
    “Maybe. Nice jacket.” Celluci got to his feet. “Wonder why it wasn’t taken with the shoes.”
    Stepping back out of the way, Dave shrugged. “Who the hell can tell these days? They took the cash but not the credit cards or ID. Even left him his transit pass.”
    Carefully stepping around both the chalk lines and the bits of broken glass on the floor, the two men made their way over to the sink. Where the stainless steel had been previously scored, the acid poured into it had eaten into the metal. A vague ammonia smell still drifted up from the drain.
    “No sign of what he dumped . . .”
    Celluci snorted. “Or of who dumped it. Kevin!” The ident man looked up from his position at the side of the corpse. “I want prints lifted off the glass.”
    “Off the glass?” Only the base and the section of the neck protected by the screw-on cap had survived in anything large enough to even be considered pieces. “Shall I cure the common cold while I’m at it?”
    “Suit yourself, but I want those prints first. Harper!”
    The constable who’d been staring into the coffin started and jerked around. “Detective?”
    “Get someone in here to drain the trap . . . the curved pipe under the sink,” he added when Harper looked blank. “There’s water in it, maybe enough to dilute the acid and give us some indication of what was dumped. Where’s the guy who found the body?”
    “Uh, in the departmental offices. His name’s . . .” Harper frowned and glanced down at his notes. “. . . Raymond Thompson. He’s a researcher, been here about a year and a half. Some of the rest of the staff have arrived and they’re in there, too. My partner’s with them.”
    “The offices are?”
    “End of the hall on the right.”
    Celluci nodded and started for the door. “We’re finished with the body. As soon as all and sundry have got their pound of flesh, you can get it out of here.”
    “Charming as always,” Dave murmured, grinning. He followed his partner out into the hall and asked, “How come you know so much about plumbing?”
    “My father was a plumber.”
    “Yeah? You bastard, you never told me you were independently wealthy.”
    “Didn’t want you borrowing money.” Celluci jerked his head back toward the workroom. “What do you think?”
    “The good doctor interrupted an intruder?”
    “And the janitor they pulled out of here yesterday?”
    “I thought you said he saw a mummy and had a heart attack.”
    “So what happened to the mummy?”
    Dave’s forehead furrowed. The coffin had definitely been empty and, while the workroom was crowded with all kinds of ancient junk, he’d bet his last loonie that there hadn’t been a body tucked into a back comer. “The intruder walked off with it? Dr. Rax broke it into chunks, poured acid over it and washed it down the sink? It came to life and is lurching about the city?” He caught sight of Celluci’s expression and laughed. “You’ve been working too hard, buddy.”
    “Maybe.” Celluci pushed open the door marked Department of Egyptology a little more forcefully than necessary. Maybe not .
    Besides the uniformed police constable, there were half a dozen people sitting in the large outer office, all exhibiting various forms of shock and/or disbelief. Two of them were crying quietly, a half empty box of tissues on the desk between them. Two were arguing, their