“Unless corpses can walk, I would say yes,” Wang answered.

“Wise guy,” Decker muttered. “Okay, let’s do this. Put a little makeup on her, fix her hair, and dress her. Then have someone take another picture of her gussied up. Do you think we could convince someone in Human Resources at Cratchet, Hatchet, et cetera, that she’s still alive?”

“Pshaw, Loo, nothing’s impossible,” Marge said. “This is Hollywood!”

The young clerk’s brown eyes first squinted, then widened with surprise. The HR office of Frisk, Taylor, and friends was tucked into a corner of the fifteenth floor in a twenty-three-story chrome and glass building. The firm took up not only floor fifteen but sixteen and seventeen as well, anonymous corridors of Berber carpeting and white walls. Sitting in his little cubicle, the clerk studied the picture, his eyes traveling from the picture to Marge’s face. “Is that Solana?”

Marge played along. “Yes, of course.”

“She doesn’t look so healthy.”

The clerk’s comment gave Marge a better ruse than the one she had originally invented. “That’s why I need to see her. She’s a diabetic.”

“I didn’t know that. It wasn’t on her medical form when she applied for the job.” The clerk suddenly looked suspicious. “Why are you talking to me instead of Solana?”

A logical question: Luckily, Marge was good at thinking on her feet. “Our pharmaceutical company has come out with some very important new drugs, and she was one of our subjects. But she hasn’t shown up for the last couple of days. I tried calling her at home, but no one answers. She put this place down as her employment. I hoped I might catch her here, but I don’t know what department she works in.”

The clerk gave Marge a strange look. Then he reluctantly checked his files, jotted down some numbers, and picked up the phone. Marge could hear the voice mail kicking in-Solana’s voice.

The victim had a voice.

The clerk said, “Hi, Solana, it’s Jack from HR. Can you give me a call when you get in?” He hung up. “She’s not at her desk.”

“Can you call someone else to find out if she’s even at work? We’re a little concerned.”

He sighed heavily but cooperated. This time he actually spoke to a human on the other end of the line. “Hi, Terry, it’s Jack.” He smiled and dropped his voice. “Yes, I’m in, what do you think? Do you want me to bring the wine?”

At this point Marge cleared her throat. Jack looked miffed and held up a finger. “Okay, I’ll do the reds, let Randy do the whites… Right, right, right. Okay, it’s a deal. Terry, before you hang up, I’ve got someone from…” He looked at Marge.

“Taykell and Company Pharmaceuticals.”

“Someone from a drug company looking for Solana Perez. Do you know where she is?… I did call, and all I got was voice mail. Do you know if she’s in today?… Of course I’ll hold.” He glanced at Marge. “Someone’s hunting her down.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t believe she actually let someone take her picture when she looked so awful. The poor thing is as white as chalk.”

“She wasn’t feeling very well.”

“You know, she should have listed her illness on the application. Our health insurance has to know- Hi… oh? For how long? Okay. Okay. Okay, I’ll see you Thursday. Bye.” The clerk exhaled. “She hasn’t been at work for three days.” He frowned. “Do you think something’s happened to her?”

“Yes, I think something’s happened to her,” Marge said. “I’d like to see her personnel records.”

Again Jack frowned. “Those are confidential.”

Marge drew out her shield. “Don’t make me get a subpoena.”

The clerk’s mouth dropped open. “You’re police? Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Because if Solana was here, I could just talk to her, clear up this mess, and you’d be none the wiser. But she isn’t here and hasn’t been here for three days. That’s why I’m asking for her records.”

“What did she do?”

“She didn’t do anything, Jack. It’s what was done to her.”

Jack whitened several shades. “Oh my God! That picture! Is it… Is she…”

“I’m afraid so.”

Jack quickly excused himself and made a mad dash down the hallway. Marge heard some retching and hoped he had made it to the bathroom in time.

The Homicide group was stuffed into Decker’s office. Lee Wang, Wanda Beautemps, Marge Dunn, and Scott Oliver were devouring several takeout pizzas. Decker was wolfing down one of his wife’s famous roast beef sandwiches. It was past seven, and they all had appetites worthy of a pack of hyenas. “First thing we’ve got to do is positively ID our victim as Solana Perez. What do we know about her?”

Marge said, “No husband, according to her application. She’s from a border town in Texas. Her parents are Ana and Jorge Perez, but contacting them has been hard. There’s no address or phone number. Nothing in Texas directory information. Scott and I are thinking that she’s from immigrant parents.”

“That’s not good,” Decker said. “We’ve got to get the body ID’d. Let’s bring someone from her office down to the morgue.”

“Not Lombard,” Oliver said. “He’ll deny knowing her, if he’s smart.”

“No, not Lombard, or any other lawyer, for that matter. I don’t want anyone charging the department three hundred and fifty an hour. Round up a secretary.” Decker looked at Beautemps and Wang. “Lee, set something up at the crypt, say around ten tomorrow. Wanda, you go to the firm and find someone who knew Solana and can identify her. The two places aren’t too far apart. You should be in and out in an hour, especially if Lee sets up the body for camera viewing beforehand.”

Wang said, “I was going to work on the city’s Missing Person files. I only got through a quarter of them this afternoon.”

“You can do that afterward. Besides, it won’t be necessary if we get a positive ID.” Decker turned to Wanda. “If you don’t get a positive ID, you help go through the MP files in the city.”

“No problem,” Wanda answered.

“Great,” Decker said. “Now, if our body is Solana, it’s really tempting to jump to conclusions about Lombard, but let’s keep an open mind. We know Solana is missing. And we know that Lombard was in the house where the body was dumped. We know that Solana and Lombard worked in the same department.”

“You forgot to mention that our vic was three months pregnant and he’s a married guy,” Oliver put in. “Ask the guy for a blood test. We can see if he’s the father.”

“Even if Lombard is the father, it doesn’t mean he killed her,” Decker said.

Marge said, “Everything’s circumstantial except him showing up at the house two days before some poor devil finds our body stuffed in a closet. With that, Lombard ’s painting a nice picture for the DA.”

“Sure would be nice to find where the vic was killed,” Oliver said.

“Funny you should think of that, Scottie,” Decker said. “I just got off the phone with Solana’s landlord. He’s meeting me at her apartment in forty minutes.”

Marge asked, “Where did she live?”

“Reseda. Who wants to join me?”

There was resounding silence.

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Who’s on call?”

“I think that would be Oliver and me,” Marge said.

Wang stood up. “Thanks for dinner, Loo.” He looked at Wanda. “See you tomorrow at ten.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you out.” Wanda threw away her paper plate and picked up her purse. “See you tomorrow.”

After they left, Decker spoke to Oliver. “You look like you swallowed quinine.”

Oliver sighed heavily. “I was planning to meet someone for drinks. She’s gorgeous and in her forties. You’d approve.”

“Don’t start, Oliver. I outrank you.”

“I’m serious, Pete. I’m trying to act somewhat age-appropriate.”

Marge added, “Especially because forty now seems young to him.”

Decker smiled. “All right, Oliver, go on your date. Margie and I can handle this. If the apartment turns out to be the crime scene, I’ll page you.”