The Ninth Precinct

2. The Coroner’s Office

2

THE CORONER’S OFFICE

Harris pulled his vehicle into the parking lot of the coroner's office, all the lights on the inside and outside of the building were off. The place was completely enshrouded in darkness and the rain seemed to part, which added more to the already creepy vibe of the place.

"Here we are," Harris said as he turned off the vehicle.

"The place looks closed to me," Grant muttered.

Harris held up a set of keys, "Don't worry about that, I have a way inside." He opened his car door and exited the vehicle, making his way towards the entrance. Grant got out of the car and followed behind Lieutenant Harris, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. "Something wrong?" Harris asked, after unlocking the double doors in front of them.

"It’s nothing. Let's get inside before it starts pouring down again."

Harris opened the set of doors, "After you." Once inside, the Lieutenant lead him down a dimly lit corridor. There was barely enough light to make heads or tails of what was in front of them, but Grant was used to the darkness, it had become more of an ally than a hindrance to him. "Watch your step," Harris warned. "We don't need to make any unwanted noises, and whatever you do, leave the lights off."

"A little on edge, eh Lieutenant."

"This is no time for jokes," Harris grumbled. "I could lose my job if anyone catches wind of me letting you in here after hours. Think about how that would look if a cop got caught helping out a private investigator."

"I wouldn't let that happen. Besides, you need my help with this case. Let's be honest here, you haven't had any luck and the body count is increasing. These kinds of cases are my specialty, of course my credentials speak for themselves."

Harris stopped at a door that read "morgue" above it, "Your credentials are not in question." He used another key to unlock the door and pushed it open, "I was never here," he whispered before turning his back.

Grant stumbled around the room until he found a small lamp to turn on that gave him just enough light to see. He picked up a clipboard that had a sign in sheet clipped to it, he looked it over thoroughly. "The body has been signed in, but the coroner has yet to look it over. I imagine he or she is waiting until sunrise." He continued to study over the papers until he found what he was looking for, "body was placed on table four, body bag tagged C4."

He put the clipboard back down on the desk and went off to search the room again. It took awhile but he found what he believed was table four when he looked over the body bag his suspicions were confirmed. Grant reached down and unzipped the bag revealing the dead body inside. "If I'm careful the coroner will never know that I examined the body before they did." Leaning his head in closer, he noticed more markings than he had originally seen. Grant took out his notes and began jotting things down.

The eyes being left in place, along with the earring was a the clues he needed to look further into. What really had him concerned was the fact there were no rose petals left behind like the killer had done multiple times before.

This had Grant worried that a copycat killer could be responsible for this pour souls demise. "What's this?" He put a rubber glove on his right hand and reached down to open the victim's mouth, rose petals were stuffed inside, "How did these get here?"

Sounds of footsteps could be heard coming from down the hallway followed by whistling. Grant slowly walked over to the door and peeked his head out, however, there was nobody there. He wanted to call out, but something deep down in his stomach told him otherwise. Instead, he went on the hunt to find out who the uninvited guest that somehow managed to get inside without being noticed. There wasn't a thought in his mind that it could have been his old friend, he wouldn't have allowed that much noise to take place. Question is, where was Harris?

Grant slowly crept down the dark hall making sure not to make any sudden movements that would give him away to the intruder. As he approached the entrance every single light in the building flickered on. Whoever followed us inside must have reset the timer for the lights, Grant thought to himself.

If I don't find Harris and get these lights off we will have some unwanted attention. When he rounded the corner something caught his eye, there was a body lying face down on the floor. "Harris!" Grant gasped, quickly making his way over to his fallen friend, to his relief, Harris had only been knocked unconscious.

"What happened?" Harris asked, holding the back of his head.

"Somebody got the jump on you," Grant replied. "Not only that, this place is lit up brighter than, New York City."

"Damn." He tried to stand straight but was still too woozy and fell back against the wall.

"You should stay here and clear your head," Grant insisted. "Tell me where I need to go, it's not like I can't work a timer."

"Down the hall, fifth room to your left," Harris reached in his pocket to hand Grant the keys, but they were gone. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

“I can tell by the look on your face that something is wrong.”

“Whoever got the jump on me, took the keys.”

"I don't need keys." Grant smirked, "There are other ways of opening a door."

"Just be careful."

"Likewise."

It took Grant all a little time to make it down to the room that controlled the lights to the building. What he didn't expect to find was a flashlight taped to the door along with a note that read, "you're going to need this." He took the flashlight in hand and wiped the sweat from his brow, then slowly entered the room. Grant wasn't afraid of what he would find on the other side, he found himself in worse predicaments than this and survived.

The only thing on his mind was getting the lights turned off, and perhaps a clue to who might be behind all of this madness. Grant turned the flashlight on and looked around the room, to him it looked as though someone had removed the lightbulbs. As he glanced over the room over further he caught a glimpse of a red substance smeared on the wall. Investigating on revealed that it was a drawing of an eye, not just one but many.

Being focused on the wall he didn’t notice the cops on the other side of the door. His concentration was interrupted when he heard the sound of metal banging across the floor. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. Smoke filled the room, Grant’s eyes burned and it even hurt to breathe.

Cops wearing gas masks rushed into the room. They had their flashlights and guns in hand aimed at him. "Put your hands in the air!" One of them shouted.

Grant dropped his flashlight making sure to raise his arms up slowly, "Easy guys, this isn't what it looks like." He choked out those words but it did him no good.

Another cop grabbed his arms jerking them down behind his back, slapping cuffs on his wrists, "Shut up and move." He was lead out of the darkroom and back into the hallway where Harris was being looked over by the paramedics. The cop pushed Grant's back against the wall, "Stand here and keep quiet." He pulled the mask off and Grant knew exactly who it was.

"Getting the same treatment from you as always, eh Turner?"

"Shut up!" Turner went to push Grant again.

"That's quite enough from you, Turner," warned the police chief.

"But-"

"I said that was enough!" She snapped.

Turner walked away angry as the chief of police approached, "What do you think you’re doing here at the coroner’s office at three in the morning, Mr. Dawson?" she hissed.

Instead of answering the question Grant decided to be a smartass, "Me being here of all places got the attention of the police chief. Don't you have a murder to solve instead of worrying about me? Right, Simons?"

"Don't screw with me, Dawson. I can have you thrown in jail for being here.”

"You could if I had done something against the law," Grant said. "I know my rights, and seeing how I was helping an officer in need you can't hold me."

Lieutenant Harris walked up holding the back of his head, "He's right Chief, Grant was helping me out of a sticky situation.”

She glared daggers at the Lieutenant, "What was Mr. Dawson doing with you in the first place?"

Harris leaned his back up against the wall, "I can't remember exactly."

He closed his eyes. "My head is still aching from whoever got the drop on me.”

"Okay Lieutenant, I see what is going on here." Simons snarled, "Get Dawson out of my sight. Oh, and one more thing I expect a full report on my desk as soon as you walk inside the precinct."

"Of course ma'am," Harris replied. "Time for us to be on our way, Grant."

"One second, Harris." Grant looked back at Simons and smirked, "Do you think I can get these cuffs removed first?"

Simons grabbed him by the end of his arm and spun him around, slamming his chest first against the concrete wall, "Someone likes it rough." Grant chuckled.

"You have no idea just how rough I can be." She breathed into his ear. With a turn of a key the handcuffs were off. Simons grabbed him again and shoved him towards Harris, "He's all yours."

"Do you ever know when to leave things alone?" Harris mumbled under his breath as he made his way towards the exit.

"When it comes to Simon’s, not a chance."

"Figures." When he pushed open the double doors something fell out of his coat pocket. Grant didn't say anything, he figured the best thing to do would be to pick up whatever object his friend had lost and return it to him once inside the squad car.

He knelt down to find a set of keys lying on the floor, "These are the set of keys to coroners office," he gasped. "Harris said they were stolen from him when he was knocked unconscious. If that was the case, why does he still have them?" Grant felt a nervousness swelling up in the pit of his stomach, it was a feeling he had to quickly shake. Why Harris still had the keys on him doesn't make him a murderer. However, he couldn't let him know of the item he had dropped, not yet anyway.

Grant had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and he stayed up the rest of that morning thumbing through his files on "The Midnight Killer" case in his hotel room. The first file he studied was that of a man named, Leonard Clifton. He was one of those real scumbags that had a rap sheet a mile long. Yes, he liked to throw his weight around with the ladies, on top of that he was known for selling drugs, but did that make him a killer?

The second file was that of a lady that goes by the name, Grace Jones. She had been in and out of an asylum for years now. Having her on file as a possible suspect didn't sit well with him, the killer had already proclaimed to be a male. But still, he had to check all leads just to be safe plus she has made claims that a demon stalks her at night, could be a clue in his eyes.

The third and final file in his possession was that of a man named John Wallace. No criminal record on file, no signs of any violence in his past, pretty much a man on the straight and narrow. Which leads to the question, if the man is that squeaky clean, then why have the cops been keeping an eye on him?

"These can't be all the suspects." Grant fumed, tossing the files to the side. "Maybe the evidence will reveal more clues and lead me to a more solid suspect than these three." He reached for the file that contained pictures of the crime scenes, and of evidence collected by the forensics team. Looking through the pictures of the victims first, something caught his attention. Red marks around all six of their necks, by the angle he could tell the assailant attacked them from behind.

Next thing that caught his eye was the fact of certain body parts missing. Why would the killer take an eye, an ear, fingers, and toes from his victims? Could be that he thinks this is his way of revenge or justice. The killer washes away what he believes to be their sins with how he dresses the bodies up in certain clothing. Or leaving the victims out in the rain.

Grant set the pictures to the side and started going over what was collected. Pictures of rose petals are what Grant looked over first. This was a significant clue to maybe finding out the identity of the killer. Truth be told, this was a type of Japanese Rose, thus in the United States isn't easy to find. They only grow in the harshest of winters. Which would mean the killer is having them imported into one of the flower shops in town. The first thing to do will be to visit the flower shops in town, he thought to himself.

Next bit of evidence was the clothing he would dress the dead, some would be dressed in things that no average man could afford, while others were dressed poorly or not at all. This must have something to do with how he felt about each victim he would choose.

Then he noticed the position of how he left the bodies if Grant was right about the pictures they depicted that of good and evil. That would mean the murderer is fighting his own battle with what he believes is right and wrong, "Well that's enough looking through these files, nothing else I can learn without doing some investigating of my own." Grant placed the folders back in the suitcase and slid it under his bed. He then reached for his g*n and holster, strapping it around his upper body. Once done he draped his coat over his shoulders, took a swig of bourbon and walked out of the hotel.

As Grant was walking towards his vehicle, the phone in his pocket started to ring. The number was from the Mayor’s office, “Hello?” He clearly didn’t want to answer, but the Mayor was his client like it or not.”

“Did you get the package?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Any leads?”

“A few,” Grant answered.

“Are you going to check into them?”

“Doing that now sir.”

“Good, expect another phone call soon. Next time though I need results.”

“Of course sir.” Grant hung up the phone, placing it back in his pocket.