Chapter 14. Justice Hurts by Igor Yevtishenkov

CHAPTER 14

An early call from the hospital woke Fred up. He was surprised to hear the chief's short greeting and managed to say just a few words:

'Well, I even don't…

'No problem,' interrupted him the department head with relief. 'I'd like you to go to the funeral home on Small Island, you know the address. They're expecting you, so get ready and go there alone. The people there are helpful, but I haven't told you that. Thanks!'

'But...' Fred did not manage to add anything, because his boss cut him off and short beeps were heard from his smartphone. In his heart, he didn't want to go to god knows where, especially at this hour of the morning, but at least he'll get paid for another shift.

It took Fred forty minutes to get there. A short man in a sweatshirt was waiting for him.

'Hi, I'm Michael, the coroner, and this is Mr Bryson who is a police medical examiner,' he introduced a gray haired, stooping man with a prickly look and saggy cheeks to Fred. 'Follow me and I'll take you down. The body has been removed from the refrigerator and all the documents are ready. You just need to sign them and get to work.'

The underground room was cramped with unusually low ceilings. The lamps looked older and shone dimly. Fred realised that he had to take a set of surgery tools from the hospital since half of the items he needed were missing. He attached a microphone to his collar and put on shoe covers, pants, an apron, hat, glasses, and a mask, before going to the operating table. It only became clear to Fred here as to why he'd been called. The body had traces of decay present and the smell of the corpse had hung in the air for several days. Therefore, the work was meant to take half a day, not just a couple of hours. Moreover, the case wasn't an easy one, especially given the fact that the medical examiner was watching his every move.

'I'll help you as a diener, if you don't mind,' he said without a smile.

'We say an APT,' added Fred. 'Anatomical pathology technician.'

'Teach your granny to such eggs, boy,' said old specialist.

They photographed the body first. Fred then noted the kind of clothes and their position on the body before they were removed. Next, all evidence such as residue, flakes of paint or other material was collected from the external surfaces of the body.

'We don't have ultraviolet light and cannot search body surfaces for any other evidence,' he said through the microphone and went on taking samples of hair, nails and skin. Once Fred finished collecting the external evidence, they undressed the body and examined any wounds. The body was then cleaned, weighed, and measured in preparation for the internal examination.

During the autopsy, the examiner kept telling him the organs that had to be separated for further testing, helping to collect mucus into tubes and then examining the trachea and inner wall of the oesophagus many times.

'Apparently, there is hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, an increase in the thickness of the walls of the heart, but this alone could not be the cause of death,' Fred concluded at the end, referring more to the policeman than to recording on a microphone.

'I agree. It is quite curious that the heart is dry, there is practically no blood in it,' the police medical examiner added, once again examining the corpse.

'It happens,' Fred shrugged. 'Some have a full heart, others have a dry one. I don't even know what may cause it,' he took off his gloves and signed the papers. Looking at the signature, the examiner frowned for a moment and froze.

'Mr. Brown... Have we met before?' he asked and looked up at Fred.

'I don't know, I don't remember,' mumbled Fred, frightened of the attention. This forensic expert from police was unlikely to know about the gem and suspect him. Most likely, he'd just heard the same surname somewhere.

'Thank you very much! I will call Doctor Stayton and thank him personally for his help. He sent a really good specialist!' with these words, the gray haired medical examiner said goodbye to Fred and the coroner and left.

'Good job! You did it perfectly,' the representative of the funeral agency smiled. 'That old bloke praises no one and today he said just so many words. Was it difficult?'

'Yes, there are a lot of questions. It is too early to say, but something went wrong with his heart. I suppose that there was an external influence of some form, but we need to do tissue tests, and then it will become clearer. You see, there's very strong decomposition.'

'Yes, he'd been lying in his car for several days. He'd been treating others all his life, and now, here he is. He was a psychotherapist. I heard about him. Michael Woodruff.'

'Woodruff?' Fred stopped, frozen with a robe in his hand. The name was familiar. He tried to remember how he knew this name, but the tiredness and desire to drink some sweet soda was stronger.

'See how much attention? They asked for a deep Y-shaped incision, and did a lot of tests! That's all because he treated a police lieutenant and his wife and they found her dead in the Doctor's house. Does this make sense?' the coroner was surprisingly talkative and Fred had a suspicion that something was up.

'How do you know all this? This is indeed…'

'What? Secret information? You're so naïve. There's no such thing as secrets. A few days before, we had the lieutenant's wife's corpse. Her body was sent home yesterday and then her mother came here. She's quite the character. She came in trying to tell me how to do my job which certainly wasn't the right thing to do. She bore a grudge against her daughter's husband, blaming him for murdering her. She was certain that when the psychiatrist was found, he'd immediately give the husband away, but now he can't. She'll be here tomorrow.'

'Yes, it's difficult,' that's all Fred could think to say, remembering where he'd heard of Michael Woodruff previously. His forehead became sweaty and his throat dried up. 'I need a drink. Is there a vending machine or a shop nearby where I can get something?'

'We have a water cooler, so please, have a drink. You look terrible - you don't have vegetovascular dystonia, do you? Looks like the blood has drained from your head where you've been standing for hours'.

'No, I'm fine. I was just woken up early and told to get here as quick as I could, so I've had no breakfast or even a coffee. Last night, I was up late, so I probably just need a rest. It's very busy at the moment, you know that.'

'Yes, we've also been warned that there'll be many dead bodies for insurance claims because of the virus – many homeless and older people. Those above are preparing the paperwork in advance to avoid a backlog of compensation claims,' the coroner continued, but Fred stopped listening and hurried outside in search of a drink.