“I’m gonna puke,” Jessica said right before vomiting a pinkish-red liquid that looked a lot like blood all over the floor of the morgue.
Gary had just pulled the sheet off Charlene’s dead body. It was definitely a gross sight, Gary had to admit, but he wasn’t so sure it was exactly what had caused Jessica to throw up. His guess was that it had much more to do with three days of nonstop drinking.
But whatever the reason, the vomit smelled worse than the fresh corpse in front of him.
“I need to—I think I need to sit down,” she said, panting and leaning against a wall. “I’m gonna sit. I need to sit down.”
“Then sit down,” he said, before turning his attention back to the body and the task at hand.
Jessica sat on the floor and put her head between her knees. She moaned and rocked slightly, trying to get the room to stop spinning. She focused all of her attention on simply trying to not barf again.
Gary ignored her and got to work examining Charlene’s body. She’d seemed like a nice lady. But he didn’t feel particularly bad for her. After all, she was dead now. So it’s not like she knew any better anymore. Besides, Gary didn’t have time to whine over each death like a little girl. He knew he needed to keep any emotions locked down and go about this with a clear head. He felt bad for the women. They always let their emotions get in the way. He didn’t see how they had much of a chance to win this game in the end.
Charlene’s body displayed a shocking amount of trauma.
The first thing Gary noticed was that her legs were broken pretty badly. Her left leg, specifically, was so badly broken that a piece of white bone could be seen jutting out just below her knee and dress hemline.
Next, there were little red welts all over her face and neck and arms and legs. Basically every part of her exposed skin was covered in swollen red welts, as if she’d been attacked by a swarm of giant mosquitoes or something.
He didn’t find the third injury until after he’d flipped over the body. The whole time Jessica had remained seated against the wall several feet away.
“Want to help me here?” he said as he started to flip the body over.
Jessica shook her head and continued to rock with her arms wrapped around her folded knees under her chin.
“Can’t,” she said softly. “No. Can’t do it.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. But he didn’t have too much of a problem getting Charlene flipped over facedown. And he noticed the gash right away. The cloth around her right shoulder was stained with dried blood. When he peeled apart the torn dress material, he saw a jagged but deep gash nearly four inches long in her right shoulder, just under her shoulder blade.
In the end, Gary had found a lot in the morgue that day. But it was almost too much. It left him more confused than ever. The gash itself didn’t look fatal, nor did the leg injuries. Was her death somehow related to the red welts? If so, then what caused those? Also, what happened to her legs? Did she fall? Was she beaten?
It was frustrating to find so much, yet be left with so little. And it certainly didn’t help to have an investigative partner whose main contribution had been to make the room smell like alcohol and vomit.