Rimis parked on Arundel Street and walked into the Glebe Morgue. He didn’t recognise the woman behind the glass but he figured even morgue receptionists had to take leave at some point.
He held up his ID and was buzzed through security. ‘I’m here to see Doctor Ross,’ he said. He signed the blue visitor’s book and headed down the corridor towards the autopsy rooms.
The dead were the dead as far as Rimis was concerned — death was what happened to everyone in the end — but attending autopsies was still the worst part of his job. He walked into the autopsy room, took off his jacket and grabbed a green gown. The room was chilly and smelled of chemicals.
Greer was taking photos but stopped when she saw him. She looked up and greeted him with a nod, a look that said business as usual. ‘Where’s Detective Brennan? You two seem inseparable.’
Rimis detected a hint of jealousy in her voice. ‘I didn’t think she needed to be here for this one.’
Greer turned back to the body in front of her. ‘I’ve just started with Robbie Calloway. I shouldn’t be more than two hours and then I’ll begin on Patrick Hill.’
Rimis had learnt to maintain a stoic front whenever he walked into the autopsy room at the Glebe Morgue. It was the last place he ever wanted to be, but he stood impassive by the table, flinched only once when Doctor Ross stabbed needles into the cadaver and collected vitreous fluid from the eye. How did she do this job? Dealing with the dead every day.
‘You feel all right? You’re looking…’
‘Fine.’
Greer stopped what she was doing and looked at him over her facemask.
Rimis cleared his throat. ‘I want to apologise again for the way I walked out on you yesterday morning. I was embarrassed by what had happened given we work together and, to be honest, it’s been a while since I… I mean…Oh, shit, help me out here, Greer. You know what I’m trying to say.’
Greer smiled beneath her mask. ‘Apology accepted.’
Rimis let out a deep sigh. He focused on the case again, more familiar and comfortable territory. ‘So, what can you tell me?’ he said.
‘Everything so far points to suicide or accidental death. He could have been skylarking, a few drinks too many, hit his head, lost his balance and fallen. When we get the tox reports we’ll have a better idea.’ Greer reached for the dissection knife and confidently sliced through the torso. She picked up a pair of shears, snapped apart the ribs and lifted off the sternum, releasing the foul odour of blood and offal.
Rimis saw the concentration on her face. ‘You look tired.’
‘I don’t suppose that would have anything to do with me working extra cases.’ Greer put down the knife. ‘Nick,’ she said and removed her splatter shield, ‘what happened between us, well, I know it’s not going to work. It’s better if we’re friends. Okay?’
Rimis gave a small nod, but wasn’t sure if he was ready to drop it. Doctor Ross got back to work.
After a few moments Rimis said, ‘I’ve never slept with her you know.’
Greer stared at him. ‘What?’
‘I said, I’ve never slept with her.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Brennan.’
Greer frowned. ‘Why did you tell me that?’
‘Because I thought you should know, in case someone’s said anything to you. There’s always talk around the station about who’s sleeping with who. The truth is, I’m Jill’s friend and mentor.’
‘Why do you think I’d be the slightest bit interested in who you have or haven’t slept with?’
‘Because you’re a woman and from my experience women are curious about that sort of thing.’
Greer shook her head.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ Rimis said softly. No matter what he did and how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t get Greer Ross out of his mind. Maybe this whole idea of not dating women he worked with was bullshit. With the long hours and the type of work policing involved, how else was he going to meet someone who understood his life?
‘And why would that be?
‘Do you always ask so many questions?’
She met his gaze. ‘It’s my job to ask questions. Look, Nick, I like you, but we’re both professionals doing a difficult job and we need to focus. So I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t flirt with me or distract me while I’m working.’
‘Message received loud and clear, Doctor Ross.’ Rimis saw the slightest twitch of her lips. ‘But you must know by now I’m the persistent type. I don’t give up easily.’ He flashed her a grin and walked towards the door. ‘I’m going out for a coffee. I’ll be back later.’
An hour and a half after Rimis left the morgue, the gurney carrying Patrick Hill’s body was rolled into the autopsy room. Doctor Ross looked at his face; she’d seen worse. It was pale and cold, nothing unusual about it, apart from the bullet wound to the forehead, a single round hole, no external bleeding. Of all parts of the corpse, the face was the most personal. Someone wanted to leave their mark.
The teeth of the forceps clamped down on the prize. ‘Ah, got it,’ Doctor Ross said just as Rimis walked into the autopsy room.
‘Your timing is impeccable, Inspector.’ Greer Ross held up a .40 calibre bullet between her gloved fingers. ‘The entrance point was right of midline, the bullet proceeded downwards to the right cheek.’ She took the bullet to the stainless countertop and dropped it into a kidney bowl; it gave a metallic clang. After she photographed the bullet, Rimis opened a plastic evidence bag, she dropped it in and they both signed it.
Rimis studied the projectile through the plastic. ‘I wonder…point four is standard police issue and we’re still missing a gun.’ He passed it back to Doctor Ross. ‘Hollow points do more damage than round points.’ The tips of hollow point bullets expand on entering a target to cause more damage and to ensure the bullet stops in the target rather than going through the person and then hitting an innocent bystander.
Doctor Ross cleared her throat. ‘No signs of a struggle. No grazes on the knuckles or skin under the fingernails, but I did find something you’ll be interested in,’ she said. ‘When the heart stops beating blood stops flowing and clots soon after. My autopsy confirms what I suspected at the crime scene…I found no evidence of bleeding in the brain or any fresh tissue so Patrick Hill was already dead when he was shot in the head. In fact, the cause of death was Acute Myocardial Infarction.’ Greer picked up a dish, the one that contained Patrick Hill’s heart. Rimis peered in. ‘The coronary vessels were severely and diffusely diseased. A clot was present in the artery to the front wall. That’s where the heart attack occurred. And that’s what killed him.’
‘A heart attack?’
‘Yes.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. You sure about this Greer?’ Rimis ran his fingers through his hair.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘Any idea how long he was dead before he was shot?’
‘I can’t give you a precise time, but at least five minutes, no more than fifteen.’
Rimis rubbed his hand along his chin. ‘Why would someone want to shoot him when he was clearly dead?’
Rimis looked at Patrick Hill. Rigor mortis had faded since he’d seen him last, and he now lay limp. He stared at him, the puzzle on the table. ‘I wonder what images his brain registered before he died. I’ve often thought how much easier our jobs would be if the brain could be dissected in a way, much like a computer, to produce a screen snapshot of the last thing the vic saw before they died.’
‘Interesting idea.’
‘If only, huh?’ Rimis sighed. ‘When can I expect the preliminary reports?’
‘If you’re lucky, tomorrow, if you’re not so lucky, two days. For the toxicology reports, you’ll be waiting a while, the lab’s running almost a week behind schedule.’
‘Let me know when you have them and maybe we can talk about the results over a drink at Otto’s.’ He gave her a cheeky look and headed for the door before she had time to respond.
Greer had changed out of her scrubs and was at her desk in her office, typing up her initial notes. Her thoughts went to Rimis and their night together. How had an innocent drink after work got so out of hand? A smile played on her lips.
She hadn’t gone to Otto’s to seek him or anyone else out. She’d simply wanted a drink after a bad day…a very bad day. Then she smiled. There was no denying it; Nick Rimis knew how to make a woman feel special in the bedroom.
Thoughts of Nick Rimis had visited her more than a dozen times since their encounter. But she was embarrassed, knew she’d crossed the line between her professional and personal life. God, what had she been thinking? And she’d told him that she liked it hard…at least she’d said it in Afrikaans. She’d had a dozen or so lovers since her divorce, but Nick was by far the most satisfying. He’d known how to read her every need. What would he be like in bed if he was stone cold sober? Her head filled with images of Nick on top of her, Nick beneath her, Nick inside her. She gave a small shudder and forced herself back to work.