Free Beating Heart Cadavers by Laura Giebfried

government official hadn't been from the Health Department – not unless a neighbor had called to complain about the smell of Fields' cigarettes.
    “Light-gray is Transportation, and there's a branch of Military that's taupe. Or tan: it's hard to tell.”
    “No, that can't be it,” Fields murmured, leaning forward to peer out into the hallway again as though fearing that the man might have come back.
    “Why do you want to know?” Mason asked. The sound of the textbook shutting came over the line.
    “Matt had an interesting visitor at his door. Claimed he was from work.”
    “And he doesn't know which department they're from?”
    “He doesn't know that they came – he wasn't home.”
    “So how do you know he got a visitor?”
    “Because I was here.”
    Mason had to pause for a moment in order to sort out the details.
    “So you're at the ambassador's estate?” he said. He seemed to want to know more, but the moment didn't allow for it. “And someone came to the door?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you answered it?”
    “He thought that I was Mari,” Fields said.
    “If he thought that you were Mari, then I doubt he was from Matt's work,” Mason said, echoing her thoughts. “Or has any knowledge of Matt's life at all, really.”
    “That's why I found it so odd. Well –” Fields backtracked, “– that and the fact that he picked the lock.”
    As Mason made a noise of agreement, another thought occurred to Fields.
    “What color do the Spöken wear?”
    “The Spöken?” Mason paused, suddenly hesitant to go on. “It's – well – silver.”
    “That's a pretty ostentatious color for people who don't want to be seen,” Fields said.
    “That's what I've always thought, but I've seen them for myself. They're like giant forks and knives wandering around their headquarters.”
    Fields formed a picture of his statement in her head and tried to imagine Jasper with his too-pale skin in a shimmering shade of gray, but the image that came to the forefront of her mind was that of a giant walking spoon that reflected his indecisive face. She shook her head.
    “You're sure it's silver? It couldn't be brown?”
    “I'm not that colorblind, Ladeline. It's metallic. The whole headquarters are, too.”
    Fields frowned. The inkling of a thought had just occurred to her when Mason spoke again.
    “And I suppose that he didn't say what he was really doing there, did he?”
    “Not exactly,” she replied, toying with the edge of the notebook. “Not that he had to.”
    “Meaning?”
    “He was trying to find something.”
    “And you … intercepted?”
    “I was very polite, Mason. I was impersonating Mari, after all.”
    “I'm sure – I just don't think you should be wedging yourself into government affairs.”
    “Does that mean you're not interested in what it is?”
    Mason hesitated, seemingly deciding between two very different inclinations.
    “I didn't say that,” he said at last. “What is it?”
    “Something you'd be interested in, given your previous profession.”
    “I'm a professor now, Ladeline. That's all.”
    “That doesn't mean you can't take a look, does it?” she asked. “Come on, Doctor Mason. Help me out.”
    Mason seemed to think it over.
    “Does it mean you'll come see me again?”
    Even though she was quite alone, Fields suppressed her smile, as though if she didn't he might be able to detect even just a hint of it in her voice.
    “Do you still live in the blue house up near the Onerian Gardens?”
    Mason paused.
    “I do,” he said hesitantly, “though ... I always thought that it was gray.”
    Fields gave a lackluster sigh and clicked her tongue in mock ridicule, but the corners of her mouth had turned upwards at last. His house was gray.
     

Ch. 9
     
    The stale smell of fetid air greeted Caine when he returned home, and for a moment he thought that Mari might have left his dinner on the stove to burn before realizing what it truly was. Unlocking the front door, he clicked on the light