Like the snap of a lightswitch, Bernie's smile disappeared and his attention returned to the body laying unceremoniously at his feet, his mask of professionalism firmly back in place. "White female, I'd say between 18 and 30 but it's hard to tell with all this mud on her. I can be more precise when I get her back to the morgue. She's in full rigor and her clothes and hair are soaked. It rained between 2 and 4 a.m. so she was already here before then. Again, I'll be able to nail T.O.D. down a little better when she's autopsied."

"Preliminary cause of death?" Steve asked, and Mike glanced over his shoulder at his partner, who was staring down at the body expressionlessly.

Bernie squatted again and pointed his pen at the back of the long, dark, stringy wet hair. "It looks like one tap to the back of the head, probably point blank but I'll know more -"

"When you get her back to the morgue, yeah, I know," Mike finished for him with a soft growl that Bernie knew was more from anger at the circumstances of the murder than lack of factual information.

The coroner glanced up sympathetically. "We're almost finished here. Then I'll get her out of your way and leave you guys to have at it."

Mike nodded sombrely. "Thanks, Bernie." He took a half-step back so he was shoulder to shoulder with his partner, both of them continuing to stare at their latest victim. "What do you think, buddy boy? A pro?"

Pursing his lips, the younger man nodded. "Yeah, that's my guess. That dress, or whatever's left of it, that's gotta be silk or satin, but it's well worn, the hem is slightly frayed," he pointed at the fabric that had been hiked up to the victim's hips, black panties visible around her upper thighs. "And that heel? That's a working girl heel, in my experience."

At any other time a comment like that would've elicited a knowing look or, at the very least, a chuckle from the lieutenant, but neither of them felt in a jovial mood at the moment. Instead they stared in silence at the dirty silver stiletto on the woman's left foot. Her right foot, covered in mud, was bare.

"Any I.D. on her?" Mike asked the coroner, and Bernie glanced up quickly, shaking his head.

"There doesn't seem to be any pockets in the dress, not surprisingly," he chuckled dryly, "and there was no purse anywhere near the body."

Nodding, Mike, his hands in his topcoat pockets, turned to the uniformed sergeant who had been quietly hovering behind the two detectives.

"We're already looking for it, Mike," Philip Englund offered quickly, anticipating the lieutenant's orders. "And the other shoe. And I've got guys canvassing the area to see if anybody saw anything… but you know how it is around here." He shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Makes our jobs so much easier," Mike chuckled dryly. "Well, you're probably not going to get anything anyway. If she's a pro like she looks, anyone who knows anything about her is not going to be out and about at this hour." He looked at his partner. "We're gonna have to come back tonight when they 'ply their trade'." He turned his attention back to the sergeant. "So who found her?"

Englund swivelled slightly and nodded back towards the mouth of the alley where a patrolman was standing with an obvious denizen of the streets, who was leaning against the wall, staring into space like he wasn't sure where or who he was. "Name's Eddie. Came in here to take a leak and literally stumbled over the body in the dark. Came running out into the street screaming just as one of our units was driving by."

Mike stared at the sergeant with raised, expectant eyebrows. Englund chuckled and shook his head. "No, I don't think so," he said, "he was genuinely scared. Besides, I know him… the ladies are not his bag, if you know what I mean."

With a dry snort, Mike shared a look with his partner then flashed a mirthless smile. "I think it's gonna a long day, buddy boy." He looked at Englund again. "Thanks, Phil. Let us know if your guys turn up anything."

"We'll do," the sergeant nodded before he turned and headed off back up the alley, stopping when Mike called his name again. He turned.

"Ah, have Eddie there stick around, will ya? Steve and I'll need to talk to him before we let him walk."

"You got it."

Mike turned back towards the body. After a couple of beats, he sighed heavily. "So what do you think?"

Beside him, Steve shrugged. "Angry client?"

"Yeah…" the older man breathed. "Helluva way to try to make a living, hunh? Taking your life into your hands every time you hit the streets. Even we have better odds than that."

"Yeah…"

Both of them stared at the discarded body for several long seconds before the older man sighed again. "Well, let's get to work. Maybe, if we're lucky, some guilt-ridden, trigger-happy john will decide to turn himself in."

Steve chuckled dryly. "Yeah, right. Your lips, hunh?" Shaking his head sardonically, he glanced up at the overcast sky, regretting again that he had left the apartment that morning without his raincoat. If he was lucky, the threatening skies would stay that way until he could find the time to swing by Union and get it.

As he dropped his head to look around the alley again, he caught Mike staring at him with a soft smile, and he frowned. The older man chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll have time to drop by your place to get your raincoat."

Steve frowned, his brow knitting. "How did you…?"

Mike's face split into a wide grin and he laughed almost evilly. "Come on, let's get to work." Taking his hands out of his pockets, he turned away and crossed slowly to the other side of the body, staring down; he could feel his partner's eyes on him as he crouched to get a better look at what was visible of the murdered woman's face.

With a soft sigh of inevitability, shaking his head once again, Steve followed but remained standing.

It was obvious there had a been a struggle before a bullet to the back of the head had ended a life. Mike pointed silently at the mud-caked knees and the younger man nodded. His eyes raked the body for several long seconds then he looked up and met Bernie's eyes. The coroner, still squatting, raised his eyebrows. Mike nodded and the M.E. smiled curtly as he straightened up, gesturing for his assistants to pull the gurney closer.

Mike stood and backed out of the way, Steve doing the same as two burly white-coated young men stepped closer to the stiff body and picked it up. Mike winced; he had never gotten used to seeing a body in full rigor, no matter how many times he had seen it. Securely on the gurney, a white sheet was draped over the body and, struggling in the mud and over the uneven ground, the gurney was pushed and pulled up the alley towards the black van.

# # # # #

It was a little more than two hours later before they finally made it back to the Galaxie. Nothing they could connect to the murder was located in the alley by then, and a brief interview with Eddie confirmed Englund's suspicions that he had nothing to do with what had happened except, unfortunately, receiving the fright of his life. It was almost, but not quite, enough to make him consider sobriety.

Steve was just putting the key in the ignition when he looked across the front seat. "Say, didn't Burke and Grabowski have a hooker murder about six weeks ago that went nowhere?"

Mike stared at him for a long beat then, frowning, stared out the windshield, his wheels obviously turning. "Yeah… yeah, I think you're right. It was right around the time we started with that whole Murray Brennan episode, wasn't it?" He knew he was treading on eggshells bringing up the Sydney Bruce connection but not mentioning it would be just as obvious. He saw the younger man's hands tighten on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the sedan through the black-and-whites and back out between the barriers, the crowd mostly dispersed now that the body had been removed.

Steve cleared his throat slightly. "Yeah, I think you're right. I'll talk to Dave when we get back, see if he thinks there might be a connection."

"Sounds good. Say, ah, why don't we take the time and swing by your place so you can get your raincoat? You never know when we'll have to be out in the rain before we get to go home again."

With a smile and a shake of his head, Steve chuckled. "Why not? And besides, it'll kill a little more time while we wait for Bernie's autopsy, won't it?"

# # # # #

Steve loomed in the doorway, waiting for Mike to hang up before entering. From the one side of the conversation he could hear, he knew the lieutenant was talking to the M.E.'s office.

"Okay, thanks, Sarah… Yeah, sorry to keep bugging you but…. Yeah, I know." Mike chucked self-consciously. "Yes, tell Bernie I'll wait for him to call me, I promise…. Okay, thanks." He hung up, glaring at the receiver.

"So how many times was that?" Steve laughed as he stepped into the room.

Mike looked up guiltily. "The third."

Continuing to laugh, Steve dropped into the guest chair, automatically flattening his tie. "Mike, Mike, Mike… we've only been back for an hour and a half…"

The older man shrugged. "What can I say, I get impatient sometimes."

Steve smirked. "Sometimes…?" Stuffing his tongue in his cheek, he leaned forward and dropped his notepad on the desk, staring at it as he flipped it open, feeling the blue eyes boring into the top of his skull. Studiously avoiding eye contact, he cleared his throat. "So I talked to Dave about that hooker murder he had and he said he couldn't say one way or the other if they might be connected, at least not from the - and I quote - 'lack of information' I was able to give him. He said to talk to him again when I get more info from the coroner." He could feel rather than see his partner sag in disappointment but pressed on. "However, he did have one interesting nugget. He said there were some unusual cuts around the victim's eyes but they couldn't figure out why." He flipped the notebook closed, looked up and shrugged.

Mike was staring at him. "That's it, hunh?"

Steve nodded quickly. "That's it."

"Great," the older man said flatly. They sat in silence for a couple of seconds, both of them jumping when the phone rang. Mike grabbed it on the first ring. "Homicide, Stone." His eyes snapped to Steve's, widening. "Yeah?…. Yeah, we'll be right down." He slammed the receiver on the cradle, getting to his feet at the same time. "Bernie wants us down there pronto. Says he found something we might find very interesting."

# # # # #

Much to Steve's relief, the coroner had thoughtfully placed a pea green sheet over the body, leaving only the head exposed. If Mike had trouble with rigor mortis, he had never been able to adequately hide his squeamishness in front of a body in the midst of an autopsy.

"What do you want to show us, Bernie?" Mike had asked without preamble as they strode through the double doors into the white-tiled room.

The M.E. was standing at the head of the table. Their victim had been cleaned up and looked almost presentable, at least enough for an open casket funeral.

Bernie's slight smile was more bewilderment than amusement and the lieutenant frowned. "I've done over three hundred autopsies in my career so far, Mike. But I've never seen this." His eyes traveled slowly to the table.

Frowning, Mike followed the movement then glanced back at Steve in confusion. The younger man looked at the coroner, equally perplexed. "What are we looking for, Bernie?"

Slowly, the medical examiner reached out and lifted the right eyelid with his forefinger. Both detectives gasped involuntarily. The eye socket was empty.