A Grand Ol' Murder by Brian Landon

Author:Brian Landon [Landon, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, General, Minnesota, Murder, Mystery & Detective, St. Paul
ISBN: 9780878395019
Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.
Published: 2009-09-01T05:00:00+00:00

16

Doyle and William heard laughter as they approached the examination room of the morgue.

“I’ve never met a morgue man who didn’t have a great sense of humor,” Doyle said, nudging William. “They all have killer wit. I’m dead serious. Eh? Get it? Oh, nevermind.”

The morgue looked much like it had the day before, except for the fresh new body lying on the metal slab, and the drunk photographer with his hand on Dr. Sylvester’s shoulder.

“Hanratty, you got my message!” said Doyle, as he approached and knocked fists with Hanratty in a friendly albeit juvenile fashion.

“Hey, anything for you, Doyle. Although I usually don’t like to go this far. My legs get tired. And then I get thirsty.” Hanratty hiccupped.

William approached Hanratty and sniffed the air around him. “I assume it wasn’t tea you used to quench your thirst,” he said. “Good God, if I lit a cigarette, you’d likely explode.”

Hanratty stared at William and blinked repeatedly. “Heeey,” slurred Hanratty. “Who the hell are you? You’re not a cop. And you talk funny, like Monty Python. Say something funny, Python man.” Hanratty slapped William’s shoulder.

William looked down at his shoulder and brushed his shirt off, as though it had been contaminated.

“Let’s get to work, Doyle. Where’s the body?”

Hanratty laughed, then paused. “Wait a minute, that’s wasn’t funny.”

“Very insightful. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Hanratty lifted up his department-issued Nikon camera and snapped a picture of William.

“I take da pictures.” He snapped another photo of William. “That one will look nice,” said Hanratty. “I don’t get many angry poses from the corpses.”

William tried to wipe the flash out of his eyes. “And Ronald,” he said, looking at Dr. Sylvester, “how have you been lately?” William offered his hand, and Sylvester shook it.

“I’ve been better,” said Sylvester. “I’ve developed a rash. You know … downstairs. I think it might be from a …“ he coughed, “business woman from a couple weekends ago. If you know what I mean.”

“I know very well what you mean. I thought you would have learned after the last time I assisted you in finding out the cause of your venereal issues. I need to learn to stop asking questions,” said William.

“That pretty much sums up my approach to detective work the past few years,” said Doyle. “Dr. Sylvester, could you show us the body of Chad Wilkinson, please?”

Sylvester looked downward, as if considering pumping more air into his Reeboks.

“Yo, Sylvester, what is it?” asked Doyle. “Don’t tell me he’s still at the hospital, too? Oh, boy, if I have to go through this all again …“

“No, Doyle, it’s not that. The body’s actually here, it’s just that— well, I’m under strict orders to not let you see it.”

“You are? Is that possible? I’m the lead detective on this case. I don’t think I can be restricted.”

“Well, you are,” said Sylvester solemnly. “Sorry, Doyle, you know

I like to help you whenever I can.”

“Under whose orders?” asked William.

“The orders came from a Chief Oliver Burnside of the Minneapolis P.

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