D&C 2.5; Do we tell the truth or nothing in it.

Do we tell the truth or nothing in it.

No one remembers the coroner unless there was a dead victim to be examined. There I was buried in the separate section of the building in a section named the Morgue, taken from the French word; Mortuary early fourteenth century "gift to a parish priest from a deceased parishioner," It was the English who refined the word to 'deadhouse' in 1865.

The section of the morgue was of two areas; the examining area and the storage rooms. The later was kept at two degree to minus fifty Celsius, of course the temperature, the dead body would be able to delayed its decomposition. The examination area was all sterile in looks with its metal fittings including the tables alongside the metal trays and tables. My room was at the right end; you are not keen to know, well, never mind. Well, it won't be lilac or lavender that you would get to smell in there but there may be the antiseptic cleaning agents or it may be laid as pristine to avoid scent contamination. Yes, smell was one possible evidence or clue to the evidence.

However, although morgues are kept cool, and as clean and sterile possible, you will sometimes smell an underlying odor of death and decomposition. This odor is less likely in a hospital morgue, since bodies there are usually not kept for long periods of time--though this depends on the city or town and whether or not a separate forensic morgue is available. If you are worried about odors, bring some menthol ointment to put under your nostrils. You could always shared it with the others.

On some busy days, the bodies that don't fit into a cooler designed to hold 40 persons, we would resort to lined the corridor outside the examination room. Those are for temporary purposes. We do endeavor to clear the 'John or Jane Doe' but its judgmental to say who gets the priority.

Yes, you want to know how does it feel to be among the dead bodies? Everyone who was not a Coroner wants to know, but no we do not disclose personal carvings on the dead bodies, and for heaven sake, we are not necrophobic. With that out, I would proceed to tell you a case I handed. I got that call from the Homicide Section; they are the only guys who knew I existed here. The others tend to avoid me. I got into the van with my assistant; Andy was the name. Who cares about his father's name. I was not getting married to him or his family anyway. Even if I did, it would be a waste of my sperms on him.

"Sir, we got a dead body here." I looked at the rookie who addressed me. They are just too darned polite at that stage. I ignored him and walked up the stairs with my assistant carrying my bag. It was three flight of stairs and one set of rickety old knees which would come loose of its sockets soon. Soon I made it up there; sordid looking place with more doors that I have seen in my house, which was quite decent with its five bedrooms and we only occupied one. I sleep on the couch or next to her on the armchair. Bernice had been inside the oxygen tent for sometime.

"Hooker had called to report that a client had died in her arms and she didn't know what to do. We showed up and sure enough there was this very dead elderly man on the floor of the apartment." The uniformed officer brief the detective while I went down on my knees to check. It was my knees and not my haunches as that would put stress on my painful spine. I was not young any more and whoever say I needed to retire could end up on my examination table.

It was the coroner's job to determine a cause of death; homicide, suicide, accident and natural.

Fairly self-explanatory.

"It looked like he died of a cardiac arrest. But I would know more when back in the lab." I told the detective.

"Screwed it, Dan. That's Freddy Lane. He was my partner for sometime. Why can't you just signed off without him being cut opened by you?" I heard the detective.

"Jim, I don't tell you what to do and you don't tell me what not to do." I was thankful that he did not picked a fight with me.With my knees bucking, I would had hit him below the belt. Later at the morgue, I had him examined and then looked up at the personnel file. I remembered Freddy; first grade homicidal freak, the only different was he held a badge. During his period of service, he had abused all the suspects he brought until the civil rights were enforced by the Department. I also knew personally him when his ex-wife came to report on marital abuse. I was younger then, and took my pugilistic skill more seriously. I sent him to the Medical High for two weeks. He never stepped into my morgue anymore. Well not till that day, he was laid there for my scalpel, plier, cutter and weighing scale. Freddy had some money, an expensive watch and a plastic wallet. Inside the wallet were several pictures encased in plastic; all of himself in uniforms. In it was the name card of one Rebecca Ward, the hooker who was with him at his last moment.

In his stomach, I found a concentration of poisonous element known to be from the flower named Fox Glove or Digitalis purpurea. It was known to induce nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain, wild hallucinations, delirium, and severe headache. Depending on the severity of the toxicosis, the victim may later suffer irregular and slow pulse, tremors, various cerebral disturbances, convulsions, and deadly disturbances of the heart.

When we confronted Ms.Ward, she denied feeding him that.

"I just fed him Comfrey tea. He was coughing and that tea soothes the throat." Ms Ward demonstrated her need for throat relived medication. Its tough sometimes being a hooker.

I told her that sometimes cardiac medication caused coughing, especially when he had just changed his medication type. He was adjusting to it. Jimmy asked who gave her the tea.

"I had mine bought at the Herbal Shop. That one bottle was given to me by John Henry. He was an arsehole." She spoke out his name with the eyes rolled up. I guess I caught up the meaning; there are things we do not need to demonstrate for words.

Jimmy went after Henry and on some hard selling of his torture methodologies, the suspect admitted he swapped the tea for something else. He read it would just induced diarrhea. That one we understood but I would had recommended a butt plug would do a better job. We booked John Henry on culpable homicide.

"Red', that's what they called Rebecca. "She won't die from it. The guy in the shop told me so."

I passed him the remaining tea in the bottle. He might need it while he served time. It was good to have loose stools. Then the boys in the Precinct got together to solve the issue of what to tell ex Mrs Freddy Lane. I was given the task as I knew her more.

"Sorry, Mary. Freddy died in has died."

"What were the circumstances," she asked.

He gave her the agreed-upon story.

Her reply?

"I was sure he would die in the arms of some prostitute. Well, I guessed keeled over on the toilet seat was just as bad."

I agreed with her. Sleaze bags like him don't deserved to die in a lady's arm. I went home and slept next to Bernice on the chair holding her hand.