“Any idea of the dispensation of the Myerholtz remains?” Laurie asked. “Have they been picked up?”
“Was she one of today’s cases?” Bruce asked.
“Yes,” Laurie said.
Bruce opened a thick ledger and ran a finger down the day’s entries. When he got to Myerholtz, his finger ran across the page. “Hasn’t been picked up yet,” he said. “We’re waiting on a call from an out-of-town funeral home.”
“Is she in the walk-in?” Laurie asked.
“Yup,” Bruce said. “Should be on a gurney near the front.”
Laurie thanked him and walked down the corridor toward the walk-in refrigerator. In the evenings the environment of the morgue changed considerably. During the day it was full of frantic activity. But now as Laurie walked she could hear the heels of her shoes echo through the deserted and mostly dark, blue-tiled corridors. All at once she remembered Lou’s response when they’d come down Tuesday morning. He’d called it a grisly scene.
Laurie stopped and looked down at the stained cement floor that Lou had pointed out. Then she raised her eyes to the stacks of pine coffins destined for Potter’s Field with unclaimed, unidentified remains. She started walking again. It was amazing how her normal mental state shielded the ghastly side of the morgue from her consciousness. It took a stranger like Lou and a time when the morgue was empty of the living for her to appreciate it.
Reaching the large, cumbersome stainless-steel door of the walk-in, Laurie put on her gloves and pressed the thick handle to release the latch. With a hefty yank she pulled the heavy door open. A cold, clammy mist swirled out around her feet. Reaching in, she turned on the light.
Reacting to her mind-set of only moments earlier, Laurie viewed the interior of the walk-in cooler from the perspective of a nonprofessional person, not the forensic pathologist she was. It was definitely horrifying. Bare wooden shelves lined the walls. On the shelves was a ghoulish collection of cold, dead bodies and body parts that having been autopsied and examined were waiting to be claimed. Most were nude, although a few were covered with sheets stained with blood and other body fluids. It was like an earthly view of hell.
The center of the room was crowded with old gurneys, each bearing a separate body. Again, some were covered, others naked and blankly staring up at the ceiling like some sort of macabre dormitory.
Feeling uncharacteristically squeamish, Laurie stepped over the threshold, her eyes nervously darting around the gurneys to locate Julia Myerholtz. Behind her the heavy door slammed shut with a loud click.
Irrationally, Laurie spun around and rushed back to the door, fearful that she’d been locked into the cooler. But the latch responded to her push and the door swung open on its bulky hinges.
Embarrassed at her own imagination, Laurie turned back into the refrigerator and began methodically going through the bodies on the gurneys. For identification purposes each body had a manila name tag tied around the right big toe. She found Julia not far from the doorway. Her body was one of those that had been covered.
Stepping up to the head, Laurie drew down the sheet. She gazed at the woman’s pallid skin and her delicate features. Judging by her appearance alone, if she hadn’t been so pale, she could have been sleeping. But the rude, Y-shaped autopsy incision dispelled any hope that she might still be alive.
Looking more closely, Laurie saw multiple bruised areas on Julia’s head, an indication of her probable seizure activity. In her mind’s eye Laurie could see the woman bumping up against her statue of David and knocking it to the floor. Opening up Julia’s mouth, Laurie looked at the tongue, which had not been removed. She could see that it had been bitten severely: more evidence of seizure activity.
Next Laurie looked for the IV site where Julia had injected herself. She found it as easily as she had the others. She also noticed that Julia had scratched her arms the way Duncan Andrews had done. She had probably experienced similar hallucinations. But Laurie noticed Julia’s scratches were deeper, almost as if they had been done with knives.