I introduced myself. "I'm Dr. Brennan. This is Detective Ryan. We're working with the Charleston County Coroner's Office, investigating the possible death of a woman who may have been Unique Montague."

"Who?"

I repeated the name.

Berry's eyes were black-brown, the whites yellow as stale beer. I watched them rove down, then back up my body. The movement nudged the jittery little temper trigger in my brain.

"We have reason to believe Miss Montague was a patient at this clinic," I said.

"Do you?"

"Was she?" I tried but failed to keep the irritation from my voice.

"Was she what?"

I turned to Ryan. "Are my questions unclear, Detective? Maybe too ambiguous?"

"I don't think so," Ryan said.

I turned back to Berry. "Was Unique Montague a patient at this clinic?"

"I'm not saying she was, not saying she wasn't."

Again, I turned to Ryan. "Maybe it's my manner. Maybe Miss Berry doesn't like the way I'm asking the questions."

"You could try being more polite," Ryan said.

"Friendlier?"

Ryan shrugged.

Swinging back to Berry, I smiled the friendliest of smiles. "If it's not too inconvenient, would you mind sharing with us what you know about Miss Montague?"

Berry's eyes bore into mine. I definitely disliked what I saw in them. I also disliked the fact that she was right. Ryan and I had no official jurisdiction, and Berry had no reason to cooperate with us. Nevertheless, I maintained my bluff.

"Do you know what's really, really fun?" I gave Berry another big smile. "Visits to the police station. The officers give you free soft drinks, doughnuts if you're lucky, and a cozy little room all to yourself."

Flipping her pen onto her appointment book, Berry sighed dramatically. "Why do you want to know about this Montague person?"

"Her name has surfaced in connection with a police investigation concerning a dead body."

"Why her name?"

"I don't think that's relevant." To Ryan. "Do you think that's relevant, Detective?"

"I don't think so."

Leaning back, Berry crossed tree-trunk arms on a double-D chest. "You work for the coroner?"

"I do."

"Better haul out a body bag."

"Why is that?"

Berry looked to Ryan. "You two are such a scream I might die laughing right here in this chair."

"That's a very old line," I said.

"I'll hire new writers."

"Let's start over. Unique Montague may have come in with a cat on her chest."

"Lots of our patients have parasite problems."

Obviously, this wasn't working. Mention Helene Flynn? Noble Cruikshank? Bad idea. If a connection existed, such questions could raise the alert Gullet wished to avoid.

"I'd like to speak with Dr. Marshall," I said.

"He won't talk about patients." Realizing her mistake, Berry corrected herself. "If this Montague was a patient, which I'm not saying she was."

"She was."

We all three swiveled toward the woman with the shiner.

25

THE WOMAN WAS WATCHING US FROM UNDER HALF-MAST LIDS, one swollen and discolored. Her skin was sallow, her cropped black hair spiked out in clumps.

"You're acquainted with Unique Montague?" I asked.

The woman raised two palms. Her nails were chewed, her inner elbows welted with sinewy scars. "I said she come here. Nothing more."

"How do you know that?"

"I spend half my life waiting at this dump." The woman glared at Berry. "Don't matter if you're dying."

"You're not dying, Ronnie." Berry's tone was cold and unfeeling.

"I got the flu."

"You're a junkie."

I intervened. "You spoke to Unique Montague here at this clinic?"

"I don't waste no breath on whackos. Heard this whacko talking to a big brown cat. Called herself Unique."

"You're sure?"

"I heard you askin'. I laid down an answer."

"When was she here?"

One bony shoulder hitched.

"Do you know where she lives?"

"Whacko told the cat they was going to some shelter."

"Which shelter?"

"I look like a fucking social worker?"

"Language," Berry admonished.

Ronnie's mouth clamped into a thin, tight line. Kicking out her feet, she laced her fingers on her belly and lowered her eyes.

Goat-chin spoke without raising his head from the wall. "Someone gonna see me, or should I just go home and mail my snot to y'all in a baggie?"

Berry was about to respond when a door opened, footsteps clicked, and a man entered from a hallway to the right of her desk. The man held two charts.

"Rosario. Case."

Hearing his name, goat-chin asked, "You the doc?"

"No."

A smirk crossed the kid's face. "Nurse Nancy?"

"Daniels. Corey Daniels. You got a problem with male nurses?"

When goat-chin opened his eyes, the smirk evaporated. For good reason.

If Berry was big, Daniels was bigger. I'm not talking NBA tall and skinny. This guy looked like Sasquatch in scrubs. His hair was pulled back in a sumo knot, and a line of tattoos snaked from his biceps to his wrist.

"Sorry, man." Goat-chin lost all interest in eye contact. "I feel like shit."

"Uh-huh." Daniels shifted to Ronnie. "You living out another dose, sunflower?"

"I got a fever."

"Uh-huh. Both of you follow me."

"Mr. Daniels," I said, as Ronnie and goat-chin pushed to their feet.

"Yo." Surprised, as though noticing Ryan and me for the first time.

"They're asking about some woman named Unique Montague." Berry's voice seemed a bit louder than necessary.

"And they are?"

"Coroner and a cop."

"Got ID?" Daniels asked Ryan.

OK. The nurse was more shrewd than the secretary. Or not. I produced my UNCC faculty card. Ryan flashed his badge. Daniels barely glanced at either.

"Wait while I situate these patients."

Whatever "situating" involved, it took twenty minutes.

When Daniels returned, he again spoke only to Ryan. "Dr. Marshall wants you to come back in an hour so he can talk to you personally."

"We'll wait," Ryan said.

"Could take longer." Daniels kept his eyes steady on Ryan.

"We're patient people."

Daniels gave Ryan a "suit yourself" shrug. When he'd gone, I took a shot at a ceasefire.

"May I ask how long you've been with this clinic, Miss Berry?"

Sullen stare.

"How many patients do you treat each week?"

"If this is a job interview, I'm not applying."

"I'm impressed with GMC's commitment to the poor."

Berry put a finger to her lips and shhh'ed me. The gesture jiggled that limbic switch.

"You must be very devoted to the organization's aims to do this type of work."

"I'm a saint."

I wondered how saintly she'd be with my boot up her ass.

"Have you worked at other GMC clinics?"

Eyeing me coldly, Berry pointed at the Kmart chairs.

"What? Am I speaking in a rude manner again?" Barely holding my temper in check.

Again, Berry jabbed the sit command.

The little bundle of axons triumphed. The switch engaged.

"How did it work? You got the front desk when poor Helene vanished?"

Berry turned away.

I was conjuring an even more stupid quip when Ryan laid a calming hand on my shoulder. I had done exactly the sort of thing Gullet had warned against. Gratuitously disclosed information without getting anything in return. Chagrined, I settled into the chair next to Ryan.

Berry got up and locked the front door, then returned to her desk and busied herself shuffling paper.

Ten minutes dragged by.

Goat-chin appeared clutching a small white bag. Berry let him out. A short time later it was Ronnie.

Now and then I'd glance up and catch Berry watching us. Her eyes would flick away and paper would rustle. The woman seemed to have a lot of paper.

At seven, I rose, paced, resumed my seat.