Blood (11 page)

              “They?”

              “We’re dealing with a group that will stop at nothing to keep their anonymity.  Anyone who saw that video may be in danger.  They could have waited until he left for the day, but they murdered him at his desk in the middle of police headquarters.  The media is going to say we can’t protect our prisoners; we can’t even protect ourselves.  They won’t listen to any wild stories about vampires and Jack the Ripper.”

              The captain walked down the hallway to his office.  Martha was at her usual station.  Thank God for Martha.  The entire building could be falling down around him and Martha would still be at her desk calmly directing his activities. 

              “Good afternoon, Captain.  Terrible news about Commissioner Williams.  Terrible.”

              “I understand, Martha.  We’ll miss him a lot.”  He walked into his office and grabbed the first paper from the stack that, like the phoenix, rose from the ashes every night and magically reappeared on his desk. 

              Marie got the chore of removing the brain from the skull.  Having the head separated from the body made the chore easier and more difficult at the same time.  Easier because the skull could be turned to give better access to the back of the head.  More difficult because all the practiced procedures were designed with the skull in position on the spinal column.  The dark haired beauty started at the left ear and made a deep incision all the way over the crown of the head to the other ear.  This scalp flap was then peeled off, exposing the top hemisphere of the skull.  Using a Stryker saw, the top of the cranium was opened and removed, exposing the brain.   After all this it was an easy task for Marie to cut the dural reflections and lift the brain out of the cavity.  A string was then tied to the brain and Marie suspended it in a large jar of formalin, a solution of ten percent formaldehyde gas in water.  The brain is so soft it can be deformed accidentally.  It is suspended to prevent one side of the brain from flattening on the bottom of the jar.  The formaldehyde in the solution not only preserves the tissues, it firms them, making the organ easier to handle.  Once suspended, the brain is set aside for two weeks or longer.

              Her father looked over her shoulder.  “Any visible abnormalities?”

              “There appear to be well over the usual number of convolutions on the surface.  That would seem to indicate superior intelligence.  Otherwise there are no visible signs of any irregularities.  But we wouldn’t expect the changes to be found on the exterior, and we can’t inspect the interior of the lobes for quite some time.”

              Dr. Bell sounded disappointed.  “Yes, well I hoped that I could give Captain Underwood something to chew on while we were waiting.

              While Marie worked on the brain, Dr. Bell had been separating the chest organs.  After pulling the esophagus apart from the rest, he cut away each organ with a pair of scissors.  After weighing the lungs and recording the results, he used a long sharp knife to slice them into one-centimeter slices, examining each slice for anything out of the ordinary.  The heart was next.  The doctor weighed the organ, then opened it along the path the blood follows, searching for any defect.  He opened and checked the coronary arteries.  Still nothing.

              The afternoon crawled along. The morning’s events made concentration difficult.  The horror of watching their supervisor carried out in a body bag left everyone in shock.  Underwood sent back three arrest reports containing glaring errors.  He even found two spelling mistakes in a letter Martha handed him.  The captain tried to remember the last time his secretary had misspelled a word.  He failed to come up with a single instance.

              Underwood read the report for the third time, trying to force his mind to focus on the figures.  The mayor had demanded that they cut expenses by five percent, and the captain had to find a way to do it without downsizing personnel and without cutting services.  He knew it could be done by tightening their belts, but he couldn’t concentrate.  The figures kept spinning on the page.

              The doctors divided up the rest of the organs.  The spleen, adrenal glands and liver were weighed, sliced, and examined by Dr. Bell, while Marie did the same to the pancreas, thyroid and kidneys.  Before slicing the thyroid, Marie also looked for the parathyroid glands, four tiny glands found under the surface of the thyroid, but couldn’t find them.  This is not an unusual occurrence so she took little notice of it.

              The larynx, trachea, bladder, and aorta each have to be cut open lengthwise and examined, so the elder doctor examined the larynx and trachea while Marie inspected the bladder and aorta.  Each was within normal parameters.  Still nothing to account for the superhuman abilities the officers had described.

              Dr. Bell had saved the worst for last.  With a small sigh he spoke to his daughter, “Well, which do you want?  The large and small intestines, or the stomach and esophagus?”  Marie opted for the intestines.

              The two most hated jobs in an autopsy are the stomach and the intestines.  It is usually the diener’s job to examine these organs, but Dr. Bell always made it a point to share all tasks with anyone he worked with, including and especially the unpleasant chores.

              Marie stripped off the mesentery, which covered the intestines and opened them over a sink under running water so the contents flowed out.  The stink of the feces and undigested food flooded the room, until Dr. Bell opened the stomach.  The smell of gastric acid burned their noses and overpowered even the wastes from the intestines.  Neither doctor would have an appetite that night.

              Five o’clock came and, for a change, Underwood’s desk was bare.  He grabbed his coat and headed for the parking lot.  As he neared the front desk, he could hear Sergeant West trying to explain something to someone unsuccessfully. 

              “I’m sorry we can’t help you but, just because you want him arrested . . .”

              “Actually I want him shot, but I’ll settle for your locking him up.”

              Underwood tried to slip out the door, but the sergeant spotted him and called him over.  A pimple-faced young man stood in front of the desk waving arms frantically as he tried to prove his point to the officer.

              “Yes, Sergeant?”

              “Captain Underwood, this is Joey Bridges.  He wants me to rush out and arrest his boss.  I keep telling him we can’t do it, but, you know . . .”

              “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bridges.”  He extended his hand.  “What can I do to help you?”

              “I want my boss arrested and thrown in jail, that’s what.  That jerk can’t treat me that way.  I have rights just like--”

              Underwood jumped in, fearing that, unless he did, it might take the boy forever to get to the point.  “And what should we be charging him with?”

              “Why, sexual harassment, of course.”

              The temptation to say ‘Of course’ back was great, but Underwood hadn’t made captain by being rude to people.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bridges, but sexual harassment is a civil matter, not a criminal one.  Now if she sexually assaulted you, that would be a different matter.  Has she ever pinched you, or rubbed against you in a provocative manner?”

              The boy sneered.  “Hell will freeze over the day that fat old buzzard comes on to me.  He hates all of my friends, especially Jimmy, my boyfriend.”

              It took a moment for this new information to sink in.  Sergeant West saw the blank look on the captain’s face and jumped in with a big grin.  “Mr. Bridges’ boss is a man, Captain.  Mr. Bridges works in an ice cream parlor.  Apparently his boss, a Mr. Jacobs, stands around every day making rude comments about Bridges’ sexual alignment and telling gay jokes to anyone who comes in the door.”

              “Whether the person is male or female doesn’t change the situation.  If you have been physically assaulted, you might be able to get a judge to sign a warrant.  Otherwise you will have to see a lawyer.”

              West’s jaw dropped.  “You mean a guy can actually sue another guy for sexual harassment?  I thought only women could sue.  I didn’t think a guy like him could--”

              The captain interrupted before the boy had grounds for another lawsuit.  West was of the old school, and his tolerances were minimal.  “There have been several cases where men have sued women for sexual harassment.  And I seem to remember reading about at least one case where a man sued another man.  I don’t however remember hearing about a verdict, so I don’t know if the case ever went to court.  But if you are serious about pursuing this, Mr. Bridges, talk to a lawyer.  He or she will be able to advise you of your legal position.”

              “Well, can you recommend a good lawyer?”

              “Our department is not allowed to make recommendations.  It might be interpreted as a conflict of interest.”  Underwood inched toward the door.  “However the Department of Human Resources downtown could probably give you a list of attorneys who handle this type of case.  Probably they would give you some names over the phone if you can’t get to their office.  And most of the lawyers on the list would give you a free consultation, if asked.”  He paused before delivering his final argument, “And if your boss is as bad as you make him out to be, it’ll hurt him more if you kick him in the pocketbook than if you kick him in the crotch.”

              The boy left mollified and Underwood managed to escape before another problem arose.

              Dr. Bell now cut a small section, no bigger than a postage stamp, from each organ and placed them in labeled plastic containers, and then piled the specimens in a box to be delivered to the histology lab.  Overnight a machine would process the samples by replacing all the water in the specimen with paraffin.  The specimens would then be cut into slices one two-hundredth of a millimeter thick, made into microscope slides and examined.  The results, and the slides, would be sent back to Dr. Bell within twenty-four hours, so that he could complete the final autopsy report.

              While Dr. Bell handled the specimens, Marie closed Patrick’s body.  His remains would be stored in the morgue for some time, so she needn’t pretty up the body for a funeral home, but some decorum was necessary.  Marie replaced the scalp over the skull and stitched it loosely into place.  With a minimum of stitches she also reattached the head to the trunk.  As Dr. Bell finished with each organ it was placed back in the chest cavity.  When done, the chest was sewn together.  The two doctors moved the body back to the gurney to be placed back in cold storage.  Walking to the door they dropped their scrubs on the floor and left the room.

              There are legends of coroners in the twenties who performed autopsies in their tuxedos, without getting a drop on themselves.  The Bell family was not of the old school.  While they were thorough, they were not especially neat.  The inside of the room now looked like a battlefield surgery.

              Jeff Moore watched Vannah walk across the stage, turning on letters as she went.  Man, this one was easy.  He couldn’t believe that sap spinning the wheel couldn’t solve it.  “Am I my brother’s keeper.  Come’on, even I knew that one.” 

              The telephone rang.  Reaching across the desk, his eyes never left the screen.

              “Yeah.” 

              “Jeff?  This is Marie.  We’ve finished with Suite Two.  Could you get a team in there please?  Thanks.”

              He had known since he relieved Marvin at five that the Bells were working a body in Two.  None of the custodial staff looked forward to cleaning the autopsy suites, but they especially hated going in after Dr. Bell.  He had a habit of slapping the organs down, spraying blood and body fluids for ten feet.  When he got done, even the walls near the scales needed scrubbing.  And Jeff hated missing
Wheel of Fortune
, his favorite show.  He sighed deeply and dialed for Ellie.  If it was as bad as last time, she wouldn’t talk to him for days.

              Jim got to the station early the next morning.  He found Lieutenant Morris in his office rubbing his temples.  Not a good sign.

              “Good morning, Lieutenant.  How is everything going this morning?”

              Morris looked grim.  “Not so good, sir.  The mayor called and asked . . . no, let me change that to
ordered
you to call him the instant you got in.  I won’t mention any names, but apparently someone wouldn’t answer his phone last night.”

              A smile appeared on Underwood’s lips.  “You know, that answering machine you gave me for Christmas has paid for itself many times, just by letting me keep from talking to His Honor whenever he’s in a rage.    Once again I’m in your debt.”

              The grin spread to Morris’s face.  “Glad to lend a helping hand, sir.”

              “Okay, so I’ve got to call his high and mighty.  What else?”

              “The mayor also said that he’s set up a press conference for eleven to brief them on our progress.  He said the national press corps will be there, and he expects us to have some progress, or heads will roll.  I don’t think he really meant it in its current context, however.”