Chapter 2 #2
The murder victim needed all of his attention right now. Poor bastard thought he was going to have the night of his life. Probably never expected it to be the last night of his life.
From his seat in the diner, he could see Amelia walking through the dark parking lot. She stopped at a car backed into a spot fully illuminated by a street lamp.
He smiled, pleased that Amelia understood tactically sound parking.
His heart rate kicked up a few notches again as he watched her unlock and get into her car.
His mind and his body were at war. Their one-night-stand was supposed to stay anonymous and remain in that one night only.
He’d broken so many rules by seeking her real identity and now?
Now they were forced to work together on a crime where a hook up turned out so differently.
If it were just a hook up. It was quite possible the victim had been in a relationship with his killer.
Lovers fought. Maybe he’d cheated. Or worse, maybe the killer had and he’d called them on it.
Or, maybe his significant other had left and he’d been ambushed by an unknown person.
Too many possibilities and not enough evidence yet to pursue any of them.
A.J. paid his check, gave Stella a big hug, and went home to grab a couple hours of sleep. He planned to be at the medical examiner’s office as soon as he could.
Sleep refused to come, even after a little bourbon. His body ached with exhaustion but his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up.
As the sun appeared over the horizon, A.J. gave up on sleep. Throwing on some sweats and a pair of running shoes he headed out to work off some of the manic energy. Forty minutes later, he returned drenched in sweat and no less frustrated.
A hot shower and two cups of coffee later, he headed out to the crime lab, still mulling over the events of the crime.
On his way to see Amelia at the morgue, he decided to stop at the lab and see if the electronics guy had any luck with Mr. Perkins’ cell phone or laptop.
They’d been logged into evidence by the crime scene people before he’d left the scene.
Hopefully there was a defined line of communication between the victim and whomever had waylaid his happy ending.
Something about the scene just didn’t seem to fit.
It was almost too—staged. The details nagged at him.
Why the scarf on the neck and tie on the genitals?
Those details felt like overkill. Like, maybe the killer wanted them to think it was a crime of sexual passion rather than something else completely.
It also bugged him that Amelia did not seem to have those same questions. Why did it bug him? So many whys. Not enough “becauses”.
As he parked in the lot outside of the lab, he spotted Amelia leaving the building.
Not quite ready to run into her again, he checked his emails on his cell phone to kill a little time until she left.
Once her vehicle exited the lot he headed inside.
Tommy, the electronics guy, was a genuine genius so if anyone could get that into that phone, he could.
Probably half asleep and blindfolded even.
When he finally went inside, the building was unusually quiet, confusing A.J. Until he remembered it was a Sunday morning and Tommy wouldn’t be in until the next day.
“Maybe I’ll just stop in and look over the body again before the autopsy. Make sure I didn’t miss anything.” Saying the words out loud made it feel like he was actually interested in the body and not secretly hoping Amelia would return. As if anyone was around to hear. Or care.
The door to the morgue was locked.
“Damn it.” The curse echoed through the empty hall a little too loudly as he rattled the door handle one last time, just in case.
“Is there something you needed?”
A.J. looked up to see Amelia at the end of the hall, the door to the building clicking shut behind her.
“I—um—was just checking—you know, to see if you had the autopsy results ready?” The last several words poured out in such a rush they pretty much tumbled over each other.
His faced flamed with embarrassment. A.J.
hated feeling out of control and Amelia made him feel very out of control.
His discomfort became even more exacerbated when Amelia broke down in laughter.
“What’s so funny about expecting you to have done your job?” A.J. demanded, his pride seething.
“Dude, relax.” She held up a cup she carried. “I already started it. I just went to get a coffee. In case you forgot, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. And, it is technically the weekend. Beside all that, I told you I would let you know when the autopsy was complete.”
While she spoke, she moved closer. Tension grew in his body as the scent of her wafted around him. He cleared his throat.
“I was in the building. Stopped to check in with Tommy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s Sunday. No one else is working today.”
“I realize that now,” he snapped. “But since I am here anyway, I decided to check in with you.”
She shrugged as flashed her i.d. badge at the card reader. Once they heard a click, she pushed the morgue door open. “Come on, Detective. I’ll show you what I have so far.”
He could have sworn she flinched when her arm brushed against his.
Or, maybe he was the one that flinched. Either way, he followed her into the chilly room.
Three silver tables lined up side by side attached to a sink and drain as long as the wall.
The center table held a sheet covered mound. Presumably their victim.
What hit him hardest though, was the smell. The morgue always had a very distinct scent- completely different than the smell of death at a crime scene. This smell permeated his eyes, his nose and his mouth immediately, beckoning his last meal to reappear.
Amelia took one look at him and giggled, tossing him a small tub of vapor rub. “Put that on under your nose. It helps a ton.”
She set her coffee on the cluttered desk pushed against one wall. A.J. twisted the lid off the vapor rub and smeared a healthy glob under his nose. The strong hydrocarbon fragrance immediately replaced the smell of the room.
A.J. grimaced. “Thanks. Although I’m not sure which is worse.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow as she tied a medical gown on. “Does the ointment make you want to vomit?”
He laughed. “No.”
She pulled on a head lamp with a shield to cover her face. “Then I guess you have your answer.”
As the doctor pulled on gloves and readied some equipment, A.J.
glanced around the large rectangular room.
One wall was filled with large drawers for body storage.
He smiled, remember their earlier conversation about Ameilia’s sleeping habits.
The adjacent wall had the tables and drains.
Above the desk that sat near the entry doors was a large television screen.
The last wall boasted an open door that led to a bathroom with a shower and another door that was likely storage or an office.
On a hook beside that last door hung a Plague Doctor mask.