Post-Mortem Page 2

  She pulled open a large metal drawer and stared at her first job of the day. She checked the file on the case. Everything seemed in order, but for some reason it was assigned to her.

  Hmmm… interesting. Time to break things down.

  After going over the file twice she reached for her favorite tool, the Stryker Saw. She turned it on and watched with an artist’s attention to detail as it sliced through the thick hard material like a hot knife through butter. She pulled apart the two halves made by the Stryker and pushed her gloved hands into Bohman, Michael’s chest cavity.

  Thirty years old and a heart attack? Let’s just see about this, shall we?

  Work It Out

  Ana -

  Ana waited until she heard the front door slam shut before cracking an eyelid open. She threw back the sheets and looked at the clock – it read 7:45. She had an hour and fifteen minutes before she needed to be at St. Catherine’s to start work.

  Feeling hollow and alone, she plodded into the bathroom. She slapped both her hands on the counter, leaned heavily on her wide spread arms, and stared into the mirror.

  Look at you. You, my friend, are a wreck.

  Your husband is handsome, has a wonderful job – and you can’t perform for him appropriately? What kind of a woman are you? You’re twenty-seven years old and you don’t even know how to make love? Your lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom is going to ruin your marriage. He is going to leave you just like your parents did.

  “Whoa!” Ana exclaimed at the mirror. “That was pretty harsh.”

  Harsh, but true.

  Ana stared at her reflection and tried to see what other people saw when they looked at her. She touched her features delicately with her fingers as she examined them. Her overly long, dark eyelashes curled upwards, making her bright blue eyes pop, and her straight nose was an appropriate length for her face – not too wide, not too thin. Her lips. She was so self-conscious about her lips. She tugged at the lower lip aggressively and then let it go, noting the light slapping noise it made when it hit her upper lip.

  Too big… makes me look like a porn star.

  She put her right hand on her cheek and stared hopelessly into the mirror, “Who are you?” she asked. When her reflection refused to answer, she let out a puff of air in frustration and went into the shower.

  Twenty minutes later she was dressed and in the kitchen looking in the fridge for anything that could be considered breakfast. She sneered at the protein powder canister that was on the counter next to the blender.

  How in the world does he drink that every day and call it breakfast?

  Finding nothing to tempt her, she fixed herself a cup of coffee to go and made her way to St. Catherine’s. Every work day felt more like she was going home than she was going to work. All the nuns were so loving and the children that she looked after were wonderful, even when they were misbehaved.

  After getting settled into her office, she looked at her appointment calendar. There were three families coming to the orphanage, so she took it upon herself to spend the first three hours of work researching each potential family and trying to match them up with a child.

  A little before noon, Ana received a text from Bram about meeting her for lunch.

  I’m going to be unable to take you to lunch today. You will have to eat in the cafeteria. I’m on my way home to grab a quick bite and then I’m off to work out. *

  The text was then followed with another.

  Also, I’ll be working late today, but I want to have dinner ready when I get home. Something simple. Make sure it’s Paleo. *

  Ana rolled her eyes at the second message. Bram had always been very muscular, but lately, he’d been overdoing it. He was always at the gym, drinking protein powder, and now this Paleo diet. He never even considered what she wanted to eat or do, but he was the man of the house – and she owed him her obedience as his wife. She felt the heat of anger flare up her face, but she quickly swallowed her pride, shook her head, and attempted to respond quickly.

  She typed out her reply several times, removing any snark and sass that she put in on the first, second, and third draft of the text.

  Whatever you like sweetie. I’ll see you when you get home. Love you. *

  She looked at the clock – she had twenty minutes before the first potential family arrived. She always had a few premade salads in her office refrigerator for times when Bram bailed on her for lunch.

  These days it seemed he was always either working late or skipping lunches.

  Ana felt a shiver of panic, anxiety, and fear roll through her body.

  Better work it out before the new group comes in. Hail Mary full of Grace…

  Flaming Out

  Cherry -

  It was midday when Cherry had finished the autopsy on Bohman, Michael. She was typing up her report on the deceased when she heard a knock on her door. She looked up and her stomach did a little flip – Detective Alex Connolly was leaning against her door jam.

  Knock it off – she isn’t available and you guys are supposed to be friends. Of course, it doesn’t mean I’m dead – the woman is HOT.

  “Hey Cherry,” Alex said smoothly, “I hear you were assigned Bohman?”

  “That’s right, I’m just finishing up the report,” Cherry explained and gestured for her to come in and take a seat.

  “So, whattaya got for me?” Alex asked as she dropped casually into the seat.

  Cherry tried not to stare at Alex’s crooked, sexy smile while she described her findings, “At first, it did seem that a pulmonary embolism, cardiac arrest, or stroke may have been the cause of death; however, there were minute traces of a substance on the lips of the victim. I have collected samples of the material, as well as blood samples, and submitted them to the lab. We should know in a few hours what the substance on his lips is – and if it could be the cause of death.”

  Alex had taken out her notepad and was scribbling away with a furrowed brow.

  “Why the look?” Cherry asked.

  “Oh, I’m just considering who suspect numbero uno on my list may be – if this is in fact – a murder,” Alex explained, “and I’m thinking it may be the wife.”

  “Yuck,” Cherry said, with a distasteful look on her face. “What a grand reason never to get married.”

  Alex raised her eyebrows at Cherry and chuckled. “You know Cherry, that kind of talk is how you end up alone, eaten by wild dogs, or whatever it is that Bridget Jones said.”

  Cherry laughed and blushed a little, “Yeah. Can’t help it, I’m jaded.”

  Alex snickered at Cherry’s joke, “Does anyone else here know you’re Ruby-Jade, or is it just me?”

  “Oh, I think Human Resource knows,” she thought a moment before continuing, “so everybody probably knows!” she howled.

  “Yeah, that’s a tough one.” Alex clapped her hands on her thighs, announcing that she was going to stand up and go.

  “Uhh, can you wait a second?” Cherry asked. Alex didn’t move, so Cherry continued, “I just wanted to clear the air one more time. Every time I see you, I have feelings of anxiety and embarrassment over… well, you know. And, I just want to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’ve come down from crazy mountain, and I hope we can be friends.”

  “Hey – you and me – we are allies. No worries.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yep,” Alex’s phone rang. She looked at the number and held her finger up, asking for Cherry to hold on a moment. “Hey baby. Yeah. I’m actually at the Medical Examiner’s Office, but I can meet you after. I can be there in thirty minutes. Okay, see you soon. Love you too.” Alex clicked off her phone and smiled at Cherry.

  “So, things with Kara are going well then?” Cherry asked, trying not to sound jealous.

  I’m not jealous of Kara. I’m just jealous that she HAS Kara. Get with the program.

  “Yes. So well… we actually moved in together. I never thought it would happen, but we have officially U-hauled!” Alex explained with a giant smile on her face.

  “Wow!” Cherry said, wide-eyed. “I didn’t expect that. But that’s… well… Congratulations!”

  “Thank you. We should all get together sometime. You know? You, me, Kara, and what’s your lady’s name? Chris?”

  “She’s not my lady,” Cherry said with a deep frown. “I wasn’t aware, but apparently we weren’t monogamous – it’s so passé,” Cherry said imitating her ex’s overly snooty voice.

  “Ouch. I’m so sorry,” Alex replied looking uncomfortable.

  “It’s okay. She wasn’t right for me anyway.”

  “Have you been seeing anyone since?” Alex asked.

  “No. You were out there not too long ago. The dating pool is filled with algae, bottom feeders, and sharks. I think I’m throwing in my towel, maybe I should rent that Bridget Jones movie you were talking about,” she pondered aloud, twisting her face up thinking about her options for the evening.

  Alex shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  “Sorry, Alex. This is sooooo outside the borders of professional.”

  “HA! Don’t worry about it. We’re family, yanno?”

  Cherry nodded and said, “I’d love have dinner with you and Kara sometime. I gotta meet the lady that had nearly got you kicked off the force.”

  Alex chucked and said, “She’s really something. Just send me a text when you’re free and we’ll try to get together.”

  Alex got up from her chair and paused at the doorway. She turned around and squinted her eyes a little at Cherry, “Don’t give up. You never know when you’re going to meet your soulmate. I met mine, and it was smack dab in the middle of the most inconvenient circumstances one could’ve dreamed up.”

  Cherry gave Alex a sarcastic double thumbs up and rolled her eyes when Alex left the room.

  People in love are sooooooo ridiculous.

  Becoming Mr. Cool

  Mr. Cool -

  His hands were sweating inside the latex gloves. He cursed silently and sneered at his wet, sheathed palms. He had been planning this moment for months, but he hadn’t considered that he might sweat in the latex gloves. He also hadn’t considered that he would be nervous. He shook ever so slightly, though he told himself that it wasn’t that he was nervous, he was just excited.

  He had waited. He had planned. He had schemed. He had lied and manipulated so many people to make this moment happen. He squeezed his right hand into a fist and watched the collecting sweat move underneath the latex layer.

  Next time, I’m going to wear leather gloves.

  He smiled at that thought, but also was confused with what he meant by next time.

  Isn’t this the only time?

  A shuffling noise came from the bedroom, and he silently removed his shoes and tiptoed across the bathroom tile to the door. He had left it cracked open for this moment. So he could view his prey unnoticed.

  He held his breath as he watched Bram get changed into workout clothing that was on the bed. His body was perfect. It was large, extremely well-muscled, but not so big that you would think he was taking steroids – a beautiful specimen of a man.

  This is going to be so good. I just have to wait for the right moment.

  He backed away from the cracked door and silently eased the knife off of the counter. He had decided to use a knife as opposed to a gun because every house has kitchen knives – and then he didn’t have to go through the trouble of finding an untraceable gun.

  He studied the knife he had chosen for this task. It was silver with a black rubbery handle, and was slightly serrated. It seemed to be equally ready to cut through a tomato, a steak, or the throat of an unsuspecting man regardless of how well-muscled he was.

  He slid over to the cracked door and watched as Bram pulled up his gym socks. He knew his opportunity was coming – fast. When Bram kneeled down on the floor to pull on and tie his shoes, he made his move.

  Silently, he pushed open the bathroom door and took the seven steps necessary to get right behind Bram, while considering if he wanted to say anything to Bram before dispatching him. Deciding that he should stick with the plan, he gripped the knife with his sinewy hand and half-thrust, half-slid the knife into Bram’s neck as deeply as it would go.

  Blood spewed over his hand and onto the pristine white carpet. Completely engrossed, he lost himself in the gushing, the warmth, and the color. After a few moments, he realized that he was still sawing at Bram’s throat, the knife vibrating in his hand as he rocked it back and forth over the man’s spinal column.

  He laughed a loud and triumphant laugh and pulled the knife from Bram’s neck. He stared at the red dripping from the blade, and watched it make tiny dots all over the carpet. He shook his head to clear away the excitement and captivation of the blood and dropped the knife onto the floor.

  “This is for you,” he said to Bram’s lifeless body, “You earned it.”

  He left Bram in the bedroom and went to go clean himself up in the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and washed his gloved hands, the bright red quickly turned to a light pink, and then soon the water ran clear. He pulled off the gloves and pushed them into a Ziplock bag that he was going to dispose of at his next stop.

  He donned a new pair of latex gloves and stretched his upper body, readying himself for the next part of his plan.

  Once out of the bathroom, he began the systematic ransacking of every room in the house. He even pulled the food out of the refrigerator and tossed it on the floor.

  Just for good measure.

  Once he had made certain that there wasn’t a single piece of furniture in its appropriate place, he checked his reflection in the entryway mirror, winked, and left calmly through the front door.

  Home-Wrecked

  Ana -

  Ana’s car chirped loudly on the mostly empty, darkened street. She was in a hurry to get inside the house since she was running late. She looked at her watch and let out an exasperated puff of air.

  Bram is going to be home any minute – he’s going to want dinner. What can I fix up? Did I freeze anything lately…

  Lost in thought, Ana fumbled with her keys and then dropped them on the pavement. The sound of the keys bouncing on the ground jarred her out of her panic.

  Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

  She bent down to pick up her keys, got to the sidewalk, and steadied herself against the light pole just outside her front door. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, “Inhale… and exhale…. Inhale… and exhale. You’ve got this. You are in control of your own life. Nothing is wrong. You are merely running late. Everything is fine.”

  Oh yeah? Then why are you panicking? Why do you feel like you are going to be in trouble if dinner isn’t hot by the time that your loving husband gets home?

  “Shut up,” she told herself. She opened her eyes and made her way to the front door, unlocking it while she recalled the last few hours of her day.

  Normally, she would come home immediately after work; however, today wasn’t normal. Bram had decided once again that he was going to be late at the office, that meant she had free time to spend as she wished.

  After work she had made her way to a therapy group that met three times weekly. She didn’t make it to every meeting, but she did her best to make it once a week – as long as Bram wasn’t at home. This week’s meeting had been like most other meetings. People got up and anonymously talked about his or her sexual dysfunction, sexual anxiety, or sexual addiction.

  Tonight, for some reason, Ana had thought she would share. The talking stick had been in her hands, she had felt ready to discuss her inability to become aroused by her husband, her lack of experience, and her “abnormal” thoughts that she had when she thought of the word sexy. But nothing had come out. She just sat there staring at the strange “sharing stick” – a plastic piece of pipe that had been colored with permanent makers – but couldn’t form words. Mouth agape, eyes watering, she had quickly passed the stick to the person sitting to her right.

  I need help.

  She made it through her front door and was about to put her keys on the front hall table before she realized her house had been torn apart. The table she attempted to use was overturned down the hall toward the kitchen. And the kitchen was demolished. Food, plates, glasses, cookware – it was all smeared and shattered.

  Ana began to shake. Her knees felt as if they were made of liquid as she wobbled back towards the door.

  I need to call Bram… Bram will know what to do.

  Ana grabbed her cell phone from her purse and punched in Bram’s number as quickly as she could with quivering, jelly-like fingers. She held the phone to her ear and cupped her hand around the bottom of the phone as if preparing to whisper.

  She was stunned when she heard Bram’s ringtone – Nickleback’s “Figured You Out” – blaring down the hall. Wide-eyed and dry-mouthed, she stopped breathing and looked at her phone, wondering why it was ringing in the house. It was definitely Bram’s number she was calling – it was also Bram’s phone that was ringing. She let the phone continue to ring in her ear, and the song continued to blare down the hallway. Then, Bram’s voicemail picked up and the song down the hall stopped playing. The newfound silence was more terrifying than the jarring song. Ana stumbled backwards and slammed into the wall.

  Without thinking she fumbled with her phone again and called Bram’s office line. It went straight to voicemail, as if Bram had already left the office for the evening.

  No. No. This cannot be happening.

  She dialed his cellular again, and when the ringtone blared once again from the direction of the bedroom, she hung up. She took a deep cleansing breath, and forced herself away from the front door.

  “Bram?” she called quietly. No answer. She edged a bit further down the hall. “Bram? Are you here?” she called, slightly louder than the first time. However, there wasn’t any answer.