A Beeline to Murder

“Healed. Thank you,” she said, sliding her hand into her jacket pocket. Abby turned and walked through the back door. Standing just inside, she let go a deep sigh.

There was no need to share her medical history with Otto. He certainly didn’t need to see the scars left by her surgery, which the doctors had hoped would repair the ligaments of her right thumb. The surgery hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. To shoot her gun, her thumb had to be consistently stable. Hers wasn’t. And she didn’t want to talk about it anymore to anyone, least of all to Otto, whose tongue had a tendency to wag in gossip about as much as it did when licking doughnut sugar from his thin lips. Still, to his credit, he could also shut down and clam up, especially in matters involving police business.

From where she had been examining the body, Dr. Figelson stood up and untied her mask. “I’m finished.”

Abby wasn’t wearing a police uniform, and she was pretty sure the assistant investigator to the coroner would resist telling her anything, but she asked, anyway. “Time of death?”

Kat entered through the back door.

Dr. Figelson ignored Abby’s question. She said, “Get my driver. Tell him to tag the body with a blue label, wrap the hands, and let him know that I’ve authorized the removal. You’ve no knowledge of any infectious diseases here or any involving the deceased, have you?”

Abby looked at her wordlessly. She shrugged. Now, how would I?

“Good. See to it, then.”

Abby’s forehead creased in a frown.

Dr. Figelson addressed Kat. “Obviously, he’s dead. Did he have a regular physician I can talk with?”

Kat shrugged. Abby shook her head.

“Our office will do a limited investigation,” Dr. Figelson said. After writing on a form, she handed it to Kat. “Here’s the release number and my contact information. Now I’ve got a call to make.”

Abby didn’t like the assistant’s attitude. Generally, the coroner’s office and the police adhered to an agreeable level of professionalism. This woman was irritating. When Dr. Figelson brushed past, boot heels in paper covers clicking against the black-and-white porcelain tiles, Abby looked at Kat and shook her head. What arrogance. Oh, well. Helping the coroner’s driver to remove the body would present an opportunity to take a closer look. On the other hand, Abby wasn’t a police detective anymore, but even when she was, her pesky curiosity had gotten her into trouble more times than not. Still, she reached for the box of gloves on the counter, grabbed two more, slipped them on, walked to the door, and motioned for Virgil to come inside.

Virgil slid out of the driver’s seat and dropped to the ground. He looked taller perched behind the wheel than standing at full height. Abby guessed he was a head taller than her own five feet three inches. He scampered over.

Abby tapped her watch. “Your partner says it’s time to load and go. Oh, and she said to wrap the hands.”

Virgil’s blue-black forehead and cheeks glistened with sweat. He glanced furtively at the body lying on the floor next to the counter and swallowed hard. Twice.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re new, too?” Abby asked.

“Uh-huh.” His complexion assumed a greenish cast.

“Why don’t you go get into your protective gear and bring the sterile sheet, the hand wraps, and a body bag?” Abby said.

He nodded, but then cried out weakly, “Toilet!” His hands flew to his throat. He doubled over.

“No. Do not vomit. Not now. Not here.” Abby pushed him in the direction of the restroom. “There.” For the next several minutes, Abby clenched her jaw and waited for the disgusting sounds from the restroom to cease. Newbie. Another reason why she didn’t miss police work.