My job is to find a killer and close a homicide case. But two of the most competent coroners I will ever know both say it’s a straight suicide.
Just like them, I have to follow the steps and make sure. But since I’ll always trust their judgment, I choose keeping Minka close over leaving to chase a ghost.
Aubree sticks around too. Dinnertime comes and goes. The darkness becomes oppressive, and the shouted demands from the press come to feel like a blanket suffocating us.
Still, I stand guard and make damn sure Felix Malone stays far, far away.
When the girls head back to the George Stanley building, I catch a ride and follow them in.
“Straight to Autopsy Room One, please.” Minka stays with the transport van—a new hire, since the former was a homicidal douchebag. She watches as the female driver pulls the stretcher from the back of the van, then she sticks close and leads our group into the elevator so we all share a ride to the ninth floor.
“I’m gonna start the official autopsy,” Minka murmurs for Aubree. “You get to lead, the file is yours. But I’d like to cut, if that’s cool with you.”
Aubree, high on her power, detours toward her desk with a smile while the body goes right. “I’ll start the paperwork. You slice and do the grunt work.” Dropping down in her seat, she smacks the keyboard and brings her computer to life. “I’ll catch up in a bit.”
“Come on.” Tapping the back of my arm, Minka steers me toward her autopsy room—the biggest in the building. The closest to her office.
She doesn’t ask for chandeliers like her predecessor did, and I know for a damn fact she accepts less salary than her position commands. Why take more than she needs, when she could keep those funds in the budget and use them to buy other skilled techs for the George Stanley? But although she refuses the extra money, she has no issue using the biggest, shiniest room to slice people open.
“Chief Medical Examiner Minka Mayet, entering Autopsy Room One to perform the autopsy of former police detective Neil Thomas. Accompanied by Detective Archer Malone, lead investigator on Thomas’ case—Thank you.” As the transport driver flips the brakes and stops the body in the middle of the room, Minka glances up for just a moment to express her gratitude.
Then the woman is gone, and all that’s left is Minka, me, and a dead, dirty cop.
“I’m going to be here a while, Detective. Few hours at least. So if you have somewhere else you’d like to be, I won’t mind if you excuse yourself.” Stopping by the door and switching out her coat for a fresh version, Minka swings by a counter filled with instruments that should probably scare me. “Takes an iron stomach to watch something like this.”
“Can I stay?” I back up, so I keep out of her way and don’t get myself kicked out. “If you don’t mind, Chief, I’d like to watch.”
“Suits me.” She moves to the coat she hung and takes out her cell, then scrolling for just a minute, she selects music, brings the volume down until its merely background sound, then tosses the phone back into the pocket and crosses the room again as she slides on her plastic glasses. “I’ll probably give this an hour before calling a break. Then I’ll have something to eat before my blood sugar drops.”
“Good plan.” When my hip touches the counter that holds an array of tools, I stop to lean, and bring my good hand up to support my injured side. “When was the last time you ate, Doctor?”
She snaps on a fresh pair of gloves. “Lunchtime. When was the last timeyouate, Detective? Better yet, when did you last consume water without adding coffee?”
Called out, I snort. “A while. We’ll both stick for an hour, then take a break.”
I extend my neck and peek closer as Minka unzips Thomas’ black bag and exposes his naked body to us both.
“What are you smiling about, Detective?” She moves around the table and frees Thomas from his plastic confines. “Thinking of a joke?”
“Thinking about karma,” I counter. “And size.” Then, because we’re on the record, I wave my hand for her to continue.
She carefully positions his body, his sliced wrist out by his side, and his head, gently lolling to the other, as though he’s looking out at the lit skyline.
“Why don’t you talk me through the procedure, Chief?” I inch a little closer as she peruses her tools. “Teach me like it’s my first day in med school.”
When she pauses to look across at me, I add with a smile, “Despite the vast number of homicide cases I’ve processed, I’ve never been privy to an autopsy before.”
“Nor would I have expected you to. Doctor Minka Mayet,” she repeats again for the record. “Performing the autopsy of Neil Thomas. Seventy-nine years old, former Copeland City police officer.” Slowly, before she even touches the body, she circles it instead. “Approximately two hundred and fifty pounds. Graying hair.” Stopping at his head, she gently pries an eye open. “Brown eyes.” Releasing him again, Minka continues circling. “Scarring on his left elbow, consistent with surgery the vic underwent when he was thirty-two years old.” Then she continues to his hand. “Nicotine stains on his fingertips. No wedding band, but indentation remains after years of wear. Skin tone is consistent.”
“What does that tell you, Doctor?” Unable to help myself, I push away from the counter and follow her steps. I don’t touch. I don’t reach out and hook the loops of her pants with my finger. But I stand close enough she’s in my lungs. Her hair tickles my shoulder, and her body warmth keeps me cozy. “Your impressions of his fingers?”
“Tells me he was a smoker. Also, he’s been divorced for a year at least. Enough for the sun to mark his skin evenly. But the actual indents in his finger and the way it developed over the years, says he wore a ring for a very long time prior to divorce.”
Moving to his feet, she scans the tag attached. “Confirming identity of the body. Neil Thomas. Date of birth: January third, nineteen forty-three.” Finally, she stops and glances over her shoulder. “We have the right body on the table. We can proceed.”
A soft laugh bubbles along my throat. “Is it common to have thewrongbody on your table?”
“You’d be surprised.”