Paint the town red

Chapter IX

I was late for work this morning. This is the first time this has happened since I've been working at the station. I woke up around 10 AM, alone, and I absolutely didn't want to get up from the couch, but the thought that my best friend's killer was wandering around with impunity is the main incentive for me to get up and go to the station. While I was getting ready, I remembered what had happened yesterday, thinking that today would be even more difficult, because I had to inform Pierre's relatives about this terrible news.

But besides yesterday's terrible event, I also remembered that I wasn't home alone last night - Max was beside me all the time. I wonder if he stayed with me all night or left when I finally fell asleep? I'll have to thank him for what he did for me.

I got ready and wanted to leave the house, when I noticed a sticker on the front door. "Good morning. If you want, take a day off today, it won't bother you, and I'll work for two today. Take care. Max." It's a good offer, but the job will not let me completely sink into despondency, and I can't shift everything on the Dutchman. After all, I chose this profession myself, so no matter how bad I feel, I have to, no, I must take up this case and solve it.

I arrived at the station pretty quickly, but it seems that no one really noticed my lateness. Well, that's good. I entered the office, where I noticed papers, photos, and a crime scene report spread out on the table. I saw photos of my friend's body: the lifeless, pale body of the once cheerful and funny Frenchman lay on the asphalt, and his mouth, chin and front of his T-shirt were covered in blood. Esteban said he literally choked on blood. I have to find the bastard who took Pierre's life.

I noticed a note on Max's desk – another message from my partner: "Charles, I know you're coming here anyway, so go get an examination reports, and I'll inform Pierre's relatives about what happened." Thanks to him for that, I'd hardly be able to come to them today and tell them about Pierre's death. Following Max's advice, I went to the medical examiner to get a full autopsy report and find out the exact cause of death. Maybe he can find something else that will help us track down the killer.

The morgue is on the lowest floor of the precinct, so it didn't take me long to get there. At the entrance to the autopsy room, I put on a robe and, exhaling heavily, entered the cool room. Esteban was sitting at his desk and filling out something on his computer, but when he noticed me, he got up from his seat and came over to greet me.

"Is the autopsy report ready yet?"

"Yes, I literally just finished entering data into the computer. Should I tell you, or should I give you a printed copy? There's also a toxicology report, but it's all clean.

"Both. And a copy."

"Okay."

Ocon nodded and went back to his desk, made a couple of mouse clicks and soon the printer with a characteristic sound gave out several sheets of printed text. Esteban took them and stapled them together, then came over and handed them to me. I took the sheets and quickly ran through them: a list of items found on the corpse, an inventory of injuries and traumas, the time and cause of death, as well as the alleged murder weapon.

"The murder was committed at about half past twelve – 1 AM. Cause of death: penetrating chest injury that caused traumatic hemothorax. "

Esteban and I went to the cadaver lockers, opened one door, then pulled out a pull-out couch with a cloth-covered body. He pulled down the top of the cloth, and I saw my friend's pale but peaceful face. Ocon, pointing to the place on the body, said that he had no injuries other than a wound on his chest, so the cause of death was obvious. He noticed how I was looking at my late friend, so he covered him with a cloth again and returned him to the cadaver locker.