April Fool's Day

Jeremiah Hawthorne (April 10, 2009)

       When we arrive at the scene, I realize how big of a mistake it was not to wear sunscreen. The heat is beating down on my skin, and I feel sweat coagulating down all of my limbs. Why do they make us wear three-piece suits in Arizona? I guess you can tack it up to how shitty the government is these days. First healthcare, now dress code. 

      As we near the crime scene, I notice the analysts shooing away hawks from the corpse. In my head, I'm thinking they should just go ahead and let the birds have at it- it'd make the job a helluva lot easier. As I am crossing over the tape, the smell of the cadaver hits me before I even see it. There's nothing I can compare to the smell of rotten flesh, but I promise you this- It will linger on your senses- all of them. I remember seeing my very first body, a lot similar to this guy, and it was something of another dimension, like when the cavemen discovered fire for the first time- the realization that there are horrors outside of the little bubble that you've been sheltered in that you have yet to be exposed to. Seeing those lifeless eyes and having to feel the cold, pale skin are two things I could live without experiencing, but it is all a part of the job description. 

     I'm sure the corpse at this scene would have been cold and pale had he decided to drop dead in a dark alleyway in the city, however, he was in the desert with his skin flaking over like those crescent rolls Ma used to bake at Thanksgiving. Even after seeing the attempts at shooing the buzzards away, it seems all attempts were futile- You can see one of the man's eyes have been pecked out, and there are several lacerations on the skin of his face that are a little wider than needle marks. The birds probably would have had an all-you-can-eat buffet had the corpse not been found sooner. This thought makes my stomach turn, and I begin to feel like Marge's might have been a huge fucking mistake.    There is no doubt now, by looking around the body, that my suspicions about the cause of death are correct. A bottle of Wild Turkey lays two feet away from where I stand with not even a drop to spare-perhaps the remainder got dried out by the sun, but I highly doubt it. I see Metro's coroner, Micke Johansen walking in my direction, and I immediately drop out of my investigative trance. "Well, it looks like you're right, Hawthorne. The vic appears to have signs of trauma to the back of the skull that is consistent with a hard fall- which could have been the result of intoxication. I'll be able to confirm for sure once we have him bagged up and sent back to the lab. Nevertheless, you had the right hunch." Johansen is a damn good coroner, and we usually agree on about ninety percent of cases we are involved in together. Off the clock, he's also one hell of a drinking buddy with Gerad and I- He never tries to discuss cases while we're out at the pub, and I can respect that wholeheartedly. 

I miss the pub instantly, but I get back to the matter at hand. "If you're happy, I'm happy, Micke. As always, it's been a pleasure- kind of like a happy ending." This cracks a few laughs, even though I didn't really mean for it to, however, seeing the uniforms laugh always makes me laugh- kind of like yawning. "Do let me know if you find evidence leading elsewhere", which is my way of translating that I'm getting the hell out of this heat. I realize that he is currently leaned over the head of the victim, talking tediously into his recorder, but he stands up and acknowledges that he hears me and clicks his recorder off. "If you've not any plans, we can still make the five o' clock call if we head back soon. I can get this bagged up, and I'll be heading back, however, if I happen to be late- you know how much jack I like in my Diet Coke." I laugh, and I try to think of something witty to say- my reflexes not being what they usually are due to the heat. "Yeah, I'll just tell ole' Bart to pour half the bottle in, in that case." This cracks Gerad up something fierce, and I realize how red and burnt his skin looks after a whole of thirty minutes exposed to the desert heat; it compels me to look at the condition of my own skin. I've always tanned instead of burning, and it truly shows today. It also makes me realize how accustomed I've become to being in an air-conditioned office as opposed to the humid outdoors. We haven't had any action for a while- most cases are textbook like this one. Maybe we'll get a case that will keep us busy in the imminent future- or shit, I hope so.