‘Heart failure, from the look of him,’ the intern said. ‘I’d say he’s been dead for two or three days.’
‘What’s the stink in the car, for Gawd’s sake?’
‘Gangrene,’ the intern told him. ‘It’s not from this guy.’
Olin stroked his jaw.
‘Pret y bad?’
‘I’d say it was bad. Whoever owns that stench is about ready for a wreath.’
A patrolman came up and saluted Olin.
‘Lieutenant, there’s a guy wanting to speak to you,’ he said. ‘Name of Dal as. Shal I let him through?’
Olin hesitated, then shrugged.
‘Yeah, let him through.’