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forward in stances that were both expressive and unsettling. One held her arms out as if begging for help. Another's legs were bent as if to run. A third had one hand over her chest and the other over her private parts, hiding her nakedness.

There were blondes with pale skin, and Asians with exotic eyes; dark skinned lovelies with corn-row braids, redheads, and brunettes. Their eyes had a depth of expression so that the dolls seemed near tears or lost in the throes of passion. They looked across the room at the faces of their disembodied counterparts.

The unfinished  heads were attached to the wall like game trophies. One's expression was hard and tough, another's wholesome and pleasant. Their lips were full, their eyes long lashed, and their cheekbones high. Finn half expected one of them to speak, but the thought was fleeting. There was no life here and no death either. What was in this room was worse than death. Those beautiful faces were attached to skulls that were laid bare, sculpted from metal and plastic. These were empty things. No brains in these heads, no hearts in the beautiful breasts of their assembled sisters.

 "Holy Mother," Finn muttered. "They look so real."

"They feel real." Cori ran three fingers down a leg hanging near her head, and then rubbed them together as if trying to rid herself of the feel of the 'skin'.

"I don't know what game those two are playing, but I'm not liking any bit of it," Finn said.

"What kind of game could it be? That man was covered in blood," Cori said.

"Paint?" Finn made a ridiculous stab at an explanation. "Play acting? You saw those people downstairs."

"If it was performance art he would have said so, and sent us on our way," Cori said.

"Except he said that she was dead," Finn reminded his partner.

"And she could have been the doll he sliced and diced."

"It does no good to speculate," Finn said. "Let's go back and sort it out before the sun rises."

"I'm going to have nightmares for weeks. This stuff really creeps m..."

Cori adjusted her holster as she complained only to find that she was talking to herself. When she looked for her partner she saw him disappear through the mass of body parts at the other end of the long room. The doll torsos were still swaying when she got there, so she pushed her way through, fighting off a pair of extraordinarily large boobs. Finn stood in a wide opening in the wall and she took her place beside him.

 The room they were looking at was smaller than the one on the first floor, and larger than the workroom. Three towering, arched windows graced the outside wall. Dawn's pale pink and grey light illuminated what seemed to be an apartment.

There was a long gleaming dining room table with eight intricately carved chairs surrounding it. It was set for two with crystal and china. A chandelier hung above it. On the far wall was a free-standing tub, a toilet, and bidet. Outdoor lounges and tables were set in a semi-circle as if around a pool, but there was only the cement floor. There were drapes across the room near the windows, but no breeze to billow them. Finn flipped the switch on a light panel. The track lighting was illuminated, but not the chandelier.

"The table lamps aren't hooked up either," he said.

"There's no plumbing." Cori pointed to the tub and the bidet that were positioned away from the wall. "Maybe this was one of those plays that got out of hand. You know those murder mystery theater deals?"

"And all the world's a stage," Finn said .

Cori leaned into him, knocking his shoulder, and raising a hand to the curtains on the far wall. The light had changed, and now they could see the silhouettes of a high dresser, a chair, and a luxurious bed. They also saw a woman lying atop it. Her legs were together, her bare feet pointed upward, and her arms were at her side.  The detectives looked at one another. Finn inclined his head, asking a question Cori couldn't answer. Real or a doll? There was only one way to find out.

 "Police," Finn called as they made their way across the room.

Cori got there first and reached for the curtains only to stop cold. She lowered her eyes. Finn did the same. Blood stained the bottom of the white curtains where they touched the floor. Cori pulled aside the curtains. The woman on the bed didn't stir. She couldn't even if she wanted to. She was real, dead, and where her face had been there was only a bloody pulp.

"Call the ME," Finn said. "Get a forensics team out here. And tell officers Hunter and Douglas that everyone in the God forsaken place is to be taken in. No exceptions."

Cori had her phone out to start the process, but she never dialed. A woman was headed their way and she was mad.

"Where are you, you bitch? Where are you?"

The sound of her heels on the stairs was deafening. The sound of her shrieking was grating. Finn and Cori stood shoulder to shoulder, at the ready, but neither was prepared for the tall woman who burst into the room. Her white blonde hair was short in the back, and fell long over one eye in the front. She wore a leather corset and stiletto heels. A studded leather collar circled her throat. When she saw Finn and Cori her surprise was as great as theirs.  It took no more than a second for her eyes to deepen with disgust.

"Well, well. Look who's here," she said.

Finn didn't respond. That didn't surprise Cori. Seeing your ex-wife half naked in a room with a dead body was definitely a shockeroo.

6

"Cover up, woman. People are seeing you half dressed."

Finn tried once more to put his jacket over Beverly's shoulders. Again, she threw it off.

 "Have you looked around this zoo, Finn?" Bev laughed, and it was an ugly

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