Chapter IV #2
“Did you suspect foul play, Ma’am?” The captain’s drawn face pulled down further like wax melting on a candle.
“Yes. I… Our case…” Mae paused, trying to form the words into a coherent sentence.
He picked up the paper from his desk and held it out again. “Says here that there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. Coroner deemed it a heart attack of some sort.”
“But my husband…” Mae tried to process the captain’s words.
“Looks like he went sudden-like. A blessing really,” the captain said by way of comfort.
“There was… I found…,” Mae stammered.
“Mighta had something wrong with his ticker,” the captain remarked, interrupting her. “Common enough with men his age. Sneaks up on ‘em and they don’t even know it.”
“I found a note he’d written,” she started again. “About our case.”
“Your case?” The captain’s eyebrows inched up his forehead as he scanned back through the paper. “Hmm. Says here the case was just family law. Not likely to have any connection.”
Mae tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath, recalling Henry’s urgent scribble on the note from the day before.
The pit in her stomach unfurled into waves of anger stretching out toward her fingertips.
“We’ve been uncovering facts that might entail a corruption scheme in the Children’s Court.
” Her eyes focused on his, and she forced as much steel as she could into her voice.
“A corruption scheme? In the Children’s Court?” He straightened up and returned to his chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“Yes, we didn’t have quite enough proof to bring it to light, but my husband had been digging.” Mae’s chest constricted as she added, “And now he’s gone—”
The desk clerk poked his head through the door, interrupting Mae. “Excuse me, Cap. There’s a gentleman from the District Attorney’s office on the line. Says it’s urgent.”
The captain focused on the desk clerk and tapped his finger on the desk. His lips flattened into a line before he turned back to Mae. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He stood unceremoniously and stepped out of the office.
As the door opened wider, Mae could hear the clacking of the typewriters and the officers talking. She could hear the captain’s voice from where she sat.
“Captain Cormac…” There was a pause.
“Yes, sir…” Mae leaned toward the doorway, her ears pricking up. Another phone rang loudly, preventing Mae from hearing the rest of the captain’s sentence.
“Of course… I understand…” Mae gripped the chair’s arms, trying to anchor herself in the chair while leaning as far forward as possible.
“Thank you for letting me know…” The receiver banged back into its place. Mae quickly leaned back and refolded her hands in her lap.
He paused outside the door, and she heard her name muttered to someone before he returned to the office and lowered himself rigidly into his chair.
With his eyes fixed on the desk’s paperwork, his face had turned pale and he began shuffling the papers around.
“Mrs. Turner…” His voice trailed off as his focus became distant.
Mae knew she had to continue. He needed to see the gravity of their case and how it might be connected. She pushed on, “Yes, as I was saying… We had been digging into several cases where—”
“Mrs. Turner,” he interrupted with a steely tone, meeting her eyes. All willingness to entertain her theory was gone. “It’s an interesting theory, but an unlikely circumstance.”
A shadow descended upon Mae’s brightening eyes. The tone itself told her that the discussion was over.
The captain’s eyes flicked to the door. “I would suggest you put this behind you now. Focus on how you can move forward.” His tone had softened slightly, his gaze locked on her as if he were willing her to forget all that she had just said.
Mae nodded slowly, buying herself time to think about the underlying meaning of his words. “What happens now?” she asked carefully.
“The body will be released to the undertaker of your choosing. Then you can plan the details from there.” His words came out in a rote and practiced cadence, as if this were a common question.
Mae sensed his relief at the turn of conversation.
“Do you have an undertaker in mind?” Mae shook her head.
“There’s a good man a few blocks away. Does it right without a hefty tag.
Do you want him sent there?” Mae nodded slowly.
The captain wrote a name and address on a scratch pad and ripped off the page to hand it to her.
“Here’s his name and address. I’ll have the paperwork reflect your wishes.
Stop by the front desk and you can request the death certificate.
The undertaker will need it to begin the interment paperwork. ”
The captain returned to the other side of the desk. Mae realized that there would be no more discussions about her husband. She made her way to the doorway. “Thank you, Captain,” she mumbled as she crossed the threshold.
She glanced back to see his eyes focus on her as she left the office.
As he tilted his head, his eyes lowered, as if he were deep in thought.
Just as she was about to turn toward the exit, she saw him make a hurried note on the paper ending in a question mark and then shuffle the paper to the bottom of the stack.
As she left the office, two detectives were having a heated, but muted discussion. Mae heard one say, “Cap said to leave it. Don’t rock the boat, Jim.”
“But it’s not right. That poor woman should know…” The man, Jim, glanced in Mae’s direction, and his words dropped off, color crawling from his top button up his freshly shaven neck as he averted his eyes quickly.
Mae’s fingers clutched her bag, and she gave him a watery smile, hoping he would look up and meet her eyes.
Maybe Henry’s death wasn’t natural. What should she know?
But the men began to walk away, leaving her with the uneasy feeling that she was being watched as she made her way to the front desk—alone.
As the clerk looked up, Mae’s voice faltered. “Yes…” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to request the death certificate for my husband, Henry Turner.” The words ‘death certificate’ turned to ash in her mouth. She forced her mouth to close as she stifled a ragged breath.
“Absolutely, Ma’am. Let me see here…” He turned to the filings and flipped the folders forward. “Ah yes. Here it is. I was told you might be coming for this today.” He handed her the certificate.
Mae glanced down, surprised that the report would already be typed and ready.
Her bloodshot eyes scanned over the foolscap.
It must be the preliminary report. There was no way an official report could be prepared this fast. As she began to read the cause of death, she saw ‘Natural Causes’ stamped on the line and closed her eyes.
“Thank you, but I think I need the official report for the undertaker?”
“That is the official report, Ma’am.” He reached forward and pointed a finger at an official stamp in the corner. “See this stamp here? That’s what marks is as the official report.”
Mae saw a small eagle-crested imprint with the word ‘Official’ encircled in the bottom right corner of the page.
How could this paperwork already have been drafted and sealed within such a short timeframe?
She was an efficient clerk, but even she knew that the turnaround time for a document like this.
It shouldn’t have been ready this quickly.
She opened her mouth to object to its veracity, but instead turned to the exit, mumbling a thanks to the clerk, but the clerk had already turned back to his filing.
She stood outside the door as the cold wind bit through her clothes. Inspecting the stamp again, she realized that it was completely dry and un-smudged. How long ago had this death certificate been typed up?