A little more than an hour later, the tan SFPD unmarked sedan pulled into a space in the Solano County Coroner's Office parking lot. They entered through the glass front door, both of them showing their stars and I.D.'s to the uniformed sergeant behind the counter in the small lobby.

"Stone and Keller from San Francisco," Mike announced pleasantly as the Fairfield officer's eyes quickly scanned their credentials.

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant. Chief Royden is waiting for you in the Coroner's Office." He pointed to his left. "It's down that way."

"Thanks," Mike smiled as he pocketed the leather case and started down the hall.

Nodding pleasantly, Steve hesitated for a beat. "The coroner's name…?"

"Taguchi… Roger Taguchi."

"Thanks." Steve jogged a couple of steps to catch up with his partner before the older man reached the two large wooden doors with a brass 'Coroner's Office' nameplate. They opened onto a small room with a counter and a couple of desks. A dark-haired man about Steve's age, wearing a white lab coat, got up from one of the desks and approached them.

Mike reached into his pocket again for his badge but the young tech was quicker. "Lieutenant Stone?"

"Yes."

"Captain Royden and Doctor Taguchi are waiting for you, sir. Just down the corridor and to your right."

Nodding his thanks, Mike turned, slowing for Steve to fall into step beside him. "Do you get the feeling either we're late or they don't have too much to do around here?" he asked sotto voce, amusement in his voice.

The younger man chuckled quietly. "I think it's the latter… at least I hope it is."

Mike opened the door with the 'Autopsy Room' plaque and they stepped into a smaller version of Bernie's fiefdom. The two occupants, one a gray-haired middle-aged man in a dark blue uniform and the other a Japanese-American man of indeterminate age with a shock of jet black hair and a white lab coat, got up from tall lab stools and approached them.

After introductions were made and handshakes exchanged, Mike nodded towards the autopsy table where a white sheet covered what was obviously the reason for their presence. "So this is it, hunh?"

Inhaling deeply, Royden nodded. "Yeah. But, ah, before Roger here… unveils it," he paused with an almost nervous chuckle, "is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Sure. Shoot," Mike answered genially with an encouraging smile.

"Your APB didn't mention it but your sergeant did when I called him… You found a leg in a dumpster in San Francisco yesterday, is that right?"

Both Mike and Steve nodded.

"And you're hoping that maybe this is the torso that goes with that leg?"

Two more nods.

Royden inhaled deeply once again. "Well, before we go any further, I just want to talk to you about jurisdiction and all that."

Mike glanced at his partner, his smile wavering. They had discussed this very subject in the car on the way up the Interstate. All they had was part of a leg; if the rest of the body was found in or around Fairfield, their police department would have jurisdiction over the case and there was nothing the SFPD could do to get it back. Or, if the majority of the body parts were found along the interstate, the State Police or even the Highway Patrol could claim jurisdiction.

Mike didn't want that to happen. He felt invigorated by the challenge of, first, trying to identify the body, and then having to discern how and why the death had occurred and who was responsible for it. He'd only worked one other dismemberment case in his long career, and that was years ago when he was the junior partner in a homicide team. Steve had never worked one. Cases of this kind engendered their own special demands and required the very best of any detective's skills.

"Now," Royden began slowly, "this particular body part was found along the I-80 just beyond the city limits north towards Vacaville."

"Who found it?" Mike asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Believe it or not, we had a couple of our boys supervising a small gang of first-time offenders who were doing a little roadside clean-up along the highway. They found this…" He gestured vaguely towards the examination table. "… at the bottom of a ditch in some bushes." He stopped himself, realizing the San Francisco detective had, deliberately or not, hijacked his train of thought. "Before I give you any more details," he reiterated, trying to get back on topic, "I want to make one thing clear."

From the corner of his eye, Steve could see his partner raise his chin slightly, bracing himself for the inevitable.

"Gentlemen, I well and truly hope this torso does belong to your leg, because I have no desire to spend any of the limited resources of this police department, in man hours or budget, in the pursuit of what I can only assume will be a time-consuming and possibly futile investigation." Finished speaking, he waited expectantly for their response.

It was not what either big city detective had been expecting, and it took a few seconds for the exact meaning of the Chief's plea to sink in. Steve glanced sideways at his partner, whose expression could best be described as slightly taken-aback, but pleasantly so.

Continuing to stare at the Fairfield police chief, Mike softly cleared his throat, slowly putting his hands into his pants pockets as he swayed slightly, a warm smile curling his lips. "Chief," he began amiably, "we would be… delighted to take this torso, and whatever else your department might turn up, off your hands. Wouldn't we, Steve?" He glanced at his partner.

The younger man, trying to mask his amusement at Mike's almost uncharacteristically controlled enthusiasm, nodded in agreement. "It would be our pleasure," he concurred as Mike shot him an almost giddy look of relief.

Royden blew out a long sigh then grinned. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Cases like these are a nightmare, and they eat up a lot of time and money… time and money this department just doesn't have, I'm afraid."

"Well," Mike reassured with a gently chuckle, "the SFPD brass probably won't like it too much either, but at least we have the manpower. So consider it officially off your hands." He slipped his right hand out of his pocket and shook the Chief's. "So, ah, Doc," he turned his attention to the coroner, "just what do we have here?"

Taguchi flashed a big smile and took a step towards the far side of the examination table. "Well, like I told your sergeant over the phone," he began as he lifted the white sheet to reveal the fleshy, grey-hued, bloody and muddy torso, "this is the trunk of a 30 to 50-year-old man, slightly overweight as you can see, but otherwise unexceptional. There are no scars or other distinguishing marks, like tattoos or birthmarks, and there is no obvious sign of injury or foul play… except, of course, that it's missing its head and limbs…"

He looked at the two homicide detectives and shrugged apologetically. "I guess it'll be up to your own ME to do the autopsy, and maybe he can come up with a cause of death."

Mike was staring at the body, his brows knit. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, he's, ah, he's… intact, isn't he?" he said almost quietly, nodding vaguely towards the torso's genital area. "I guess, ah, I guess mutilation and torture can be ruled out, wouldn't you say?" He glanced at the other three and they all nodded.

"The, ah, the arms and legs seem to have been dislocated from their sockets," Steve added quietly, gesturing at the gruesome body part with his chin, his own hands now stuffed into his pockets.

"Yes," Taguchi agreed. "The flesh, as you can see," he leaned over the torso and pointed at the skin around the right upper leg, "has been cut with a sharp edge… not a knife but maybe a saw. There are some small striations on the ligaments, tendons and muscles which leads me to believe it was a small handsaw, but your ME should be able to make a more accurate assessment."

"There are striations on the shinbone of the leg part we already have… hopefully they'll match," Mike said with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head.

A phone somewhere in the room began to ring and Taguchi, with a soft, "Excuse me," crossed to the desk against the far wall and picked up the receiver.

Mike turned to Royden. "If it's okay for Steve to use your phone, I think we should call our ME and find out how he wants us to get this… this body part back to The City."

"Sure, of course," Royden said eagerly, still obviously relieved that the responsibility was his no longer. He turned to Steve. "Inspector, if you'd like to come with me? My office is right next door. Handy, hunh?" he chuckled as he turned towards the door.

He and Steve were just about to exit when Taguchi put his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver and called out for the Fairfield police chief. They stopped and turned back towards the coroner.

Taguchi's eyes flashed from the chief to Mike and back again. "It's the Highway Patrol. They've found two more body parts."

# # # # #

"Okay, Bernie, I got it. Thanks. Yeah, we'll be back as soon as we can… Okay, great, see you in a few hours."

Steve hung up the phone and glanced at his partner, who was leaning back in the chair opposite the metal desk in the Fairfield Police Department's bullpen, one foot up against the desk edge, his fedora pushed back on his head. He chuckled as he picked up the yellow legal pad, turned it around and tossed it towards the older man.

Mike leaned forward, taking his foot off the desk and letting the chair drop heavily to the linoleum as he dug his glasses out of his inside jacket pocket and put them on. "We've gotta get all that?"

"Yep," Steve nodded with a snort, "we gotta wrap each body part in a clean plastic bag and put it in a separate container."

"You're kidding…"

"Nope. I think Bernie knew you wanted to just toss them into one box altogether –"

"Well, no…" Mike whined in his own defense and his partner chuckled before continuing.

"And he was insistent that each have it's own…" He took the notepad back and glanced at it. "It's own 'ice-filled closed container to avoid cross-contamination'."

Mike was staring at him with a perplexed frown. "That's, what? That's six containers we have to get?" Steve nodded. "Well, what kind of containers?"

"Bernie said we can use regular coolers or those new Styrofoam ones I've seen in stores. Oh, and we're gonna need a lot of ice."

"Ice… where do we get ice?"

"I think they sell it in bags in grocery stores."

"I wouldn't know, I've never bought any. The only ice I use comes out of trays in my freezer." Mike sighed grumpily. "Well, I guess we better go find ourselves some coolers." He got up.

Chuckling, Steve got to his feet as well. "We're going to have to buy all this stuff, you know. I hope you brought your credit card."

"Me? Why me?" The older man looked affronted.

"Well, I don't think they're going to give us this stuff for free, and I don't think Royden or Taguchi are going to pony up for it. After all, it's not their case anymore, is it?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Well, no," Mike mumbled.

"And besides, you make more money than I do."

"You don't have a daughter going to an out-of-state university."

"Nice try."

With a heavy sigh, Mike turned towards the Chief's office. "I'll go ask Royden where he thinks we can get what we need." He looked over his shoulder as he walked away. "There better still be room in the car for me… I'm not riding home lying on the roof."

Steve's laughter followed him across the bullpen.