The Bartender (Sanguine Hearts Book 1)

11 The Dead

Time slipped by unnoticed as Nicole examined the body on her table. To some, it was just another body from the projects. To her, it was one too many bodies coming from the very wrong side of town with the same cause of death. Her peers all thought she was crazy, that maybe she needed to step away from the hob, take a vacation, get some fresh air, anything. Some even joked about her perhaps huffing formaldehyde or whatever. To which she replied, “I don’t emblem them,” while glaring at the i***t that suggested it.

“You can’t save them either.”

“No, Steven. I can’t. But I can at least give them some dignity in death.” Her hard eyes fell on him and he shut up. Good. She preferred him silent. Maybe that was why she liked her job. All her clients were dead. No. She didn’t have a fascination with death. It is the natural conclusion to life. Not a single living thing on Earth could escape it. Not one that she knew of, so no. Death didn’t bother her either. She wasn’t crazy, and she didn’t need any time away. They all needed a humanity check. Their lack thereof was showing. How many people had to die before it became too many? Did it matter who they were? Where they were from, or how they lived their lives? She knew the answers most would give her, and she knew how she’d answer those questions. It didn’t matter who or what they were in life. Dead was dead, and no life deserved to be cut short by unnatural causes. She noted the cause of death in her journals and logs. Another death was recorded as a natural cause even though there was nothing natural about their death and no explanation for her discoveries.

Nicole put down her pen and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. How many was that? Three, four, five in as many weeks. That was too many and too much in common for her liking. Sure, the visible and apparent causes of death for each victim, she honestly believed that was what they were, victims, was different. But the underlying reason for their loss of life was exactly the same. She just didn’t understand how. She understood Death to be a cruel mistress, as ruthless and careless as Time himself. It came for everyone. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that some other force or forces were at play.

All the bodies that she had seen come through her morgue were in various states of decomposition. Which wasn't a surprise given where the bodies were found and the time of year. The warmer months were the worst for bodies to be discovered untouched and uncared for left exposed to the element and time’s ravishing effects, weeks after death. Each was as flawless as a week-old decomposing body could be, but each had little contra-indicators that could have, should have, signaled an unnatural cause of death and triggered an investigation. Some had tears in the skin that oozed and stank but were not caused by bloating skin expansion and tearing. The tears were in places that suggested self-mutilation in various measures. Nicole had seen everything from scratches on the arms to gouged-out eyes. You have to ask. Who would do that to themselves and why? People don't go around mutilating themselves. Not typically. Until you know their history you can’t assume that it is normal for them and they took their own life, especially when their body doesn’t indicate a history of self-harm or mutilation. Those cases were all investigated, as much as the investigation could or would be done in the slums, and subsequently ruled as natural deaths, despite her pleas to rule them otherwise. There wasn’t any more equity in death than there was in life for these people. She knew it and she hated it. The fact was, that these people were the lowest of the low in society. Hell, they weren’t even on the first rung of the social ladder. The state of their area of town spoke to that. No one. NO ONE cared about these people in life. Why would they care about them in death? They didn’t.

Her latest guest’s fingernails were broken and torn like she had been clawing at something. They were all guests. Thankfully they never stayed long. Nicole collected samples, bagged and tagged them, and sent them up as evidence. When Officer Ben arrived before her autopsy began, he wanted to watch her work. He stood silently in the doorway. He didn’t know how she did it. He knew he never could. The dead freaked him out. He watched as she collected DNA from under the woman's fingers and prepared what she collected to be sent to the lab for analysis. Of all the examiners in the district, she was the most thorough. He often wondered why her talent was wasted working in a district that was pretty much forgotten. He’d gotten to know her fairly well over the past couple of months he’d been assigned to the district. She was a forensic pathologist, intelligent and well-trained. No one sent in more evidence than she did. He moved as she started to prepare to start her autopsy. He wouldn’t be able to stomach that, so he moved into the room to gain her attention.

She found an abundance of foreign materials on the woman's decaying body, but no evidence of a struggle and no wounds. With that find, her frustration grew. She added her observations to her physical notes after she paused her recorder. She put new gloves on, dawned her face shield, and resumed her examination of the body. She only had time to perform a quick autopsy; she lined up her tools and prepared to begin her work when the door opened. She let her recorder play on so she would have to change her gloves again.

"Ben! What a surprise. I was just about to start. Do you have an ID for our guest?"

"Um," eyebrows raised, Ben skirted the autopsy table and moved to stand as close to Nicole as he could without getting too close to the body. "Y-y-ya. We do. She's um. I'm. Man, Nic. She reeks. I'm sorry. I have no idea how you do this. I'll. I got to go. Uh. Jones, Sharmetra Jones. I have to notify the next of kin." He was out the door before Nicole had time to start laughing at his antics.

She finished her examination and discovered nothing too suspicious, or to cause her to suspect foul play or any different from the last body she had examined. All the woman’s organs looked like they had been deprived of blood and therefore robbed of oxygen and nutrients, the life forces of the cell. But Ms. Jones had her full blood volume. Nicole found that to be very odd yet consistent with all the other cases that had recently come through her morgue. Cautiously she wrote up her report and prepared it to be sent off to Dr. Erick Clarke, the chief medical examiner.