Songbird (completed)

chapter six

Delia and Thomas parked the 'Stang on the curb by the Harlem's house. "How are we going to find the evidence? And how are we going to prove it?" Thomas asked through bites of his donuts. Delia took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. "I'm not sure but let's find out." She answered and pulled the mustang into the drive.
When they arrived back at the station, Riggs met them at their desks. "Did you find anything out?" he asked. Delia held up her hands and tilted her head. "Not really." Thomas threw his coat on the back of his chair and cleared his throat. "She mentioned that monday night, the night her daughter went missing, they had gotten into a fight and she quote on quote 'locked herself in her room for the 3rd time that week." Riggs raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "And she shut us down when we asked why she didn't file a missing persons report." Delia added. Riggs's eyebrows stitched together in concentration and he shook his head. "There's most likely a connection there." Delia nodded and threw her coat on the back of her chair, and plopped her ass down.  A smile played on Thomas's lips when she spun in her chair. Riggs snapped out of his thinking and looked at the both of them. "I want you to uncover as much dirt as you can. And if you need to find out more about that girl, do it." He demanded and then walked off. Delia turned and sighed. "I'll call the mortician and see if he's found anything else out." She grunted. Thomas nodded and turned on his computer. "I'll do a little hunting on our vic." 
Delia had taken out her cellphone and stepped outside, hiding under the alter so she didn't get wet. She dialed the number for the mortician in Seattle, and he picked up on the second ring. Guess morticians aren't to busy. "Hello?" a females voice came. "Hello, This is Delia coolman. I'm working on the Harlem case, I was wondering if the mortician that helped with that is available?" Delia asked, adding a peppy voice. There was a long pause and then a sniffle. "That mortician, his name was James. He died yesterday morning." The woman snapped. Delia sucked in her lips and nodded. Great. "Oh, I am so terribly sorry." She mustered. "I had no idea. Thank you for your help." And then Delia hung up the phone. She walked back inside. "That was quick, what did our mort have to say about Harlem?" He inquired. "Turns out our mort is dead." She stated. Thomas threw his hands up and groaned. "So what the hell are we supposed to do now?" he grilled, his teeth grinding together. Delia got quiet as she paced back and forth, chewing at her lip. That was the real question, wasn't it? 'What are we going to do now?' Delia sat down in her chair, still lost in her trance. Since the mortician was gone, they were going to need to do the real digging themselves. If they couldn't do it alone, they would need allies. But where are you gonna find allies in America's most crime-ridden city? Nobody's a rat but everybody's a rat. Nobody gives you information unless it benefits them. Delia let out a long sigh as she twirled in her chair, and Thomas tapped his pencil on his notebook. They were screwed.