Another Way to Die by Philip Cox

Author:Philip Cox [Cox, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Leroy watched the large hand pass the figure 1, and jerkily move around the clock face. It was 8:05am, and Medical Examiner Russell Hobson was about to begin the first autopsy of the day.

Leroy was in one of the criminal laboratories in the Hertzberg-Davis Forensic Science Center on Paseo Rancho Castilla, just west of Monterey Park, and adjacent to California State University. Since 2007, and after two years’ construction and costing slightly over $80 million, the imposing concrete and red brick building had been the home to the Los Angeles Crime Laboratories.

‘You sure you’re okay, Sam?’ Hobson asked. ‘You still look like shit.’

‘I feel like shit,’ Leroy reposted.

‘How much sleep you get last night?’ Hobson asked, as his assistant wheeled the first gurney into place.

Leroy shrugged. ‘Couple of hours, I guess.’

‘What was her name?’

‘I’ll let you know when we get an ID,’ he replied, nodding his head in the direction of the gurney.

‘I see.’ Hobson looked down at the inert body, still covered by the blue rubber sheet.

‘I was at the station all night. Looking at some video from outside a men’s room at LAX until around two. Then caught some zees on the couch in Roman Perez’s office.’

Hobson was amused. ‘Does he know?’

‘He did when he arrived at seven thirty this morning. But before I went to sleep, I left a note on his door saying, “payback for Superbowl”.’

Hobson frowned as he stretched his rubber gloves.

‘Now that seems familiar, but I don’t remember where.’ He motioned to his assistant to remove the sheet.

‘Goes back to when we were partners. He had this huge fight with Rosanne: he wanted to watch the game, she didn’t, things escalated, and she threw him out. He came over to mine, we watched the game, and he slept on my couch the next two or three nights.’

‘Yes, she could be quite feisty as I recall.’

‘Still can, apparently.’

‘So you figured it was time for payback?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Did he see it that way? Did he remember?’

‘Not at first, or so he made out; but winced when I refreshed his memory.’

Hobson laughed and turned to his assistant. ‘Oh, Sam: this is Lester. Lester, this is Detective Leroy.’

Lester and Leroy exchanged greetings.

‘Right, let’s get started,’ said Hobson. ‘This is the Jane Doe that came in Friday night. Sam: she still is a Jane Doe, is she?’

‘She is.’ Leroy took a step back and watched Hobson and Lester begin. There was a microphone hanging three feet above the body, and as he carried out the autopsy, Hobson recorded verbal notes; at the same time, Lester recorded everything on a body diagram on a clipboard.

In his years as a detective, Leroy had attended scores of autopsies, and each and every time the feature which struck him most was the smell. A combination of the disinfectant from the laboratory and the unmistakeable smell of decay and decomposition, even though the body had been a corpse only a few hours before it was placed in the freezer. The smell always remained with him for hours after he had left.

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