Thorns & Oranges

Learning Something New

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"I'm going to kill Rey," I muttered. "You might want to go ahead and arrest me now."

Houston was still laughing but holding my hair up as I barfed up the rest of my dinner in the trash can.

"You have a weak stomach for a gangster."

"You know, I'm swearing off meat forever. And I really like meat but that was just...nasty. Thank you so much for that." I dry heaved one more time and then wiped my mouth with the paper towel he offered me. "You think someone would've mentioned the morgue. It's not that hard, you know. I ask 'Where are we going?' and your simple response should've been 'To the morgue' but no. You had to be mysterious. Well, I'm telling you now, Mr. Dressed In Pinstripes, mysterious is overrated. Unless you're Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it's not going to work for you."

He rubbed my back and put his other hand against my forehead. "You're sweating."

"Yes. I sweat when I throw up. It throws my body temperature out of whack and the next thing you know I'll be craving water and food. Good job, Houston. You've set me back and I've been doing so well lately."

"I thought you might want to see the body."

"Why would I want to see the body? Who would want to see that? He looks like my mother's Sunday chicken the first and only time she cooked it. You've ruined the whole poultry category for me. I hate you."

"You don't hate me."

"You're right. I loathe you." I sat up and tipped my head back. "I have a headache," I whined.

"Just tell me what you know about this...guy and I'll take you back to the bar. I'll even drive you instead of wheeling you."

I nodded and propped my head against my closed fist. "You said his name was..."

"Rafael Gross."

I nodded again. "He was a low level guy in the Black Jays. I don't know much about him. A year ago he was selling..." A really nasty burp welled up in my throat and I was back to dry heaving over the trash can. "I hate you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew you'd react that badly to it, I never would've brought you. I would've showed you his DMV photo instead."

"I'm good with dead bodies, Houston. It's when they look like that and I know they were in the trunk of my car that we have problems. Give me his file."

I straightened back up and he retrieved the file from the head coroner's desk. The last time I threw up was in rehab when I was going through withdraw. Walking around worked for me back then so I got up and took a stroll around the morgue now. My stomach eased with each step and by the time Houston handed me the file, I was good. I propped it open on one of the autopsy tables and quickly scanned over it.

"Ok..." I rubbed my hands together "...everything you have on him is pretty much wrong."

"What do you mean?" He stepped up next to me. "How is it wrong?"

"For one, his grandmother died four months ago. He's been living with his girlfriend over on Beacon Street since then, and the last time I saw him was..." I stopped talking and looked over at him. "Let's just say I saw him a couple days before my car blew up."

Houston nodded. "Ok."

I scanned over his tattoos and pursed my lips. "I didn't know he killed Hugo Barnett."

"How do you know that?"

"The tattoos," I said like he was stupid. "If you knew how to read them, you could probably decipher everyone's crimes in the city. See this?" I pointed at the rosary on his left hand. It circled around his wrist and the cross hung on the back of his hand. "It tells you how long he's been in the gang."