Eyes of the Raven

Chapter Four

"I love the smell of a pathologist in the morning," said Emily, smiling as she entered the local state morgue.

Doctor Graham Turoff, State Registered Pathologist, was dressed in scrubs and preparing to start his second autopsy of the day, but he nevertheless smiled and responded.

"My wife might complain."

"Bring her along, the more the merrier," said Emily.

Some distance behind Emily came Simon, his slight reluctance to enter obvious in his slow step.

"I see you've brought a date," said Doctor Turoff.

"This is Sergeant Simon Farmer," said Emily. "He's a little new at this."

"As you can see, I'm a bit busy," said Doctor Turoff, standing before one of several stainless steel trolleys, each with a body on it covered by a white sheet. His morgue attendants were moving purposefully around the room, preparing equipment and bodies for autopsy. "And please tell your sergeant not to vomit in here. There are toilets through the doors."

"He'll be fine," said Emily, glancing back at Simon and noting the greyness of his face. "Hopefully."

"My guess is you're here about the murder victim by the river yesterday?" said Doctor Turoff, a slight impatience beginning to show on his face in place of the genial smile. "You'll be pleased to know I rushed it through and did the autopsy first thing this morning."

"Anything significant?"

"Beyond the obvious? Not much, I'm afraid. He died from shock brought on by severe blood loss. From that I'm sure you can surmise that the amputation of the arms was done while the victim was still alive. On first look, the weapon was most likely a heavy blade, like an axe or a chopping knife of some kind. There's no evidence of serrations. It certainly doesn't look like the arms were taken off with a saw."

"And the hands?"

"Almost certainly the same, or the same kind, of weapon."

"So he just took the forearms."

"I can see why you're a detective."

Emily ignored the sarcasm. They'd known each other a long time.

"Was he marked?"

"Upper right thigh. Permanent marker. It's crude, but it could be a bird, or a plane." He shrugged. "Or a random collection of lines."

"Just like the first two."

"Exactly."

"Anything else?"

Doctor Turoff shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. No major damage to the internal organs. Stomach contents have been sent off for analysis, but it looked like he'd not eaten anything for a while. There's evidence of sexual activity, anal, and the penis has faint bite marks."

"Enough for identification?" said Emily, now ignoring her pale sergeant and focused completely on what Doctor Turoff was saying.

"Unlikely."

Emily sighed. "Was the sex forced?"

"Well, it was rough, certainly. But it's difficult to say at the moment whether it was forced or just...enthusiastic."

"Drugs?"

"No needle tracks, no damage to the nasal area, and no undigested pills in the stomach. He seems clean, but the toxicology results will tell us for certain what's in his blood and urine."

"When they get back," said Emily.

"Exactly." Doctor Turoff looked over Emily's shoulder to where Simon was a little unsteady on his feet. "I think, perhaps, you'd better get your colleague out of here, DCI Sanders, before he ruins our scrupulously cleaned floor."

"Thank you for your time, Doctor," said Emily, smiling again. "Send me the full report when it's done."

"Of course," said Doctor Turoff, watching the policemen exit.

A morgue technician approached from behind. "The body is ready, Doctor."

With a slight sigh, Doctor Turoff turned to the next job on his list.

#

"Just breathe," said Emily, watching Simon intently as they stood by her car outside the city morgue.

Some color returned to Simon's face as he took her advice. He was embarrassed by his reaction inside the morgue. The sight of death had never bothered him unduly, but that place was different.

"It's the smell," he said, still breathing heavily. "Not the dead bodies lying around, but the smell of the place."

"I know," said Emily, trying to instill her voice with some sympathy, but struggling. It did not come naturally to her. "It's a unique blend of scooped out bodies, opened up digestive tracts, chemicals, and cleaning fluids. There's nothing else quite like it. But believe me, you do get used to it."

"Hard to believe just at the moment," said Simon, "but I believe you."

Emily looked closer, noting the returned color in his cheeks and the alertness back in his eyes. "You're looking better," she said. "Ready to get on with the day?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Simon, straightening up and exhibiting the formal professionalism he had momentarily lost in the morgue. "Have we learned anything new?"

Emily climbed into the driver's seat of her Land Rover, and waited while Simon walked around and opened the passenger door. "Nothing new," she said. "But a few things have been confirmed."

"What's our next move?" said Simon, settling in the passenger seat and fastening his seatbelt.

"Let's start by taking a closer look at those first murders," said Emily, starting the car. "And maybe try and find out why they were dropped by the original team, and handed over to us."

#

The man had slept well. He had not dreamed, or at least he didn't remember any dreams. That was good. But what he really worried about were his waking dreams. That was when he would hear the voice, telling him what was needed.

It was always the same voice, distant, distorted and vaguely feminine, or effeminate. The words were always clear in his mind though, sharp and easily understood. From that he had known what to do. And he knew what to do this morning. The drawer in the old, worm-eaten chest of drawers in the basement was full of carving knives, meat cleavers, and any other implement he might want. And the person who would provide what was needed was securely strapped to the equally old kitchen table, also in the basement. Everything was ready to go. As was he. Right after some breakfast.

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