Spoilers for 2x13: Risk
Taylor was waiting in the morgue, still in her dress, waiting for someone to appear. Finally, Mac – now changed out of his tuxedo – and Sid arrived.
“And to what honour do I owe a beauty like in a dress like that, down here?” Sid asked her. “Or are you to see our younger coroner?”
Taylor smiled, “I was at the opera, and maybe later.”
“She’s helping out on a case,” Mac told Sid.
“Ah, well, in that case, come over here.” He ushered the two of them over to the table the body was lying on, and pulled back the sheet. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and started removing something from the victim’s head wound. “Wood splinter from your vic’s forehead,” he said, handing the piece over to Mac. “And there’s more where this came from. The splinters entered the skin at a sideways angle. My guess is with a wooden stick, or a club.” He held an imaginary club and mimicked smacking it over the body’s head. “Pow! Blow was fatal.”
Taylor blanched. “I really didn’t need a replay, Sid,” she muttered.
“He died instantly?” asked Mac.
Sid shook his head. “No, it could have taken a few hours. He suffered significant swelling to the frontal lobe then flat-lined. Here, let’s roll him.” He and Mac turned the body over to reveal scratch marks on his back. “The scratches are scabbed over and a couple of days old.”
“Looks like a special someone left her mark,” smirked Taylor.
“Sounds like experience,” said Sid, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Sid!” exclaimed Taylor in mock outrage.
Mac sent a disapproving look at the coroner, who, in turn, cleared his throat, and continued with his findings. “This story isn’t over.” He held up the vic’s hand to show a gaping wound. Taylor could feel her stomach churning again – she could see light through the hole. “At first glance, it looked like a compound fracture. I pulled this from his hand.”
Mac took the item Sid offered him. “Sharks tooth. Coney Island trinket, or real?”
“I’m not sure,” shrugged Sid. “But it took a whole lot of force to drive it through his hand. And that’s just the first course of our seafood buffet. Wanna go fishing?”
Taylor was now as white as she could possibly go. “Do I really want to know?” she asked.
Instead of getting an answer, Sid pointed to a screen behind, with an x-ray on it. Right where the stomach was, were several tiny fishes. Taylor glanced back down at the vic, just in time to see Sid’s hand go diving into the stomach and pull out a fish. Taylor felt her stomach churn again, as her face turned from white to green.
“Until they’re cleaned up, it’s going to be hard to determine species. There’s a lot of superficial damage from the stomach acids,” said Mac, taking the fish off him.
Sid grabbed a ladle and began spooning the stomach contents into a dish. “I’ll send this toxic stew over to Adam to analyse. I estimate the fish were ingested less than 45minutes prior to you vic’s death. They were alive when he swallowed them, but they didn’t last very long.”
“Neither did he,” said Mac.
Taylor took one last look at the milky looking liquid Sid was waving around, and hitched up her dress before bolting out of the morgue to the bathroom.
“Neither did she,” quipped Sid.
“And to what honour do I owe a beauty like in a dress like that, down here?” Sid asked her. “Or are you to see our younger coroner?”
Taylor smiled, “I was at the opera, and maybe later.”
“She’s helping out on a case,” Mac told Sid.
“Ah, well, in that case, come over here.” He ushered the two of them over to the table the body was lying on, and pulled back the sheet. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and started removing something from the victim’s head wound. “Wood splinter from your vic’s forehead,” he said, handing the piece over to Mac. “And there’s more where this came from. The splinters entered the skin at a sideways angle. My guess is with a wooden stick, or a club.” He held an imaginary club and mimicked smacking it over the body’s head. “Pow! Blow was fatal.”
Taylor blanched. “I really didn’t need a replay, Sid,” she muttered.
“He died instantly?” asked Mac.
Sid shook his head. “No, it could have taken a few hours. He suffered significant swelling to the frontal lobe then flat-lined. Here, let’s roll him.” He and Mac turned the body over to reveal scratch marks on his back. “The scratches are scabbed over and a couple of days old.”
“Looks like a special someone left her mark,” smirked Taylor.
“Sounds like experience,” said Sid, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Sid!” exclaimed Taylor in mock outrage.
Mac sent a disapproving look at the coroner, who, in turn, cleared his throat, and continued with his findings. “This story isn’t over.” He held up the vic’s hand to show a gaping wound. Taylor could feel her stomach churning again – she could see light through the hole. “At first glance, it looked like a compound fracture. I pulled this from his hand.”
Mac took the item Sid offered him. “Sharks tooth. Coney Island trinket, or real?”
“I’m not sure,” shrugged Sid. “But it took a whole lot of force to drive it through his hand. And that’s just the first course of our seafood buffet. Wanna go fishing?”
Taylor was now as white as she could possibly go. “Do I really want to know?” she asked.
Instead of getting an answer, Sid pointed to a screen behind, with an x-ray on it. Right where the stomach was, were several tiny fishes. Taylor glanced back down at the vic, just in time to see Sid’s hand go diving into the stomach and pull out a fish. Taylor felt her stomach churn again, as her face turned from white to green.
“Until they’re cleaned up, it’s going to be hard to determine species. There’s a lot of superficial damage from the stomach acids,” said Mac, taking the fish off him.
Sid grabbed a ladle and began spooning the stomach contents into a dish. “I’ll send this toxic stew over to Adam to analyse. I estimate the fish were ingested less than 45minutes prior to you vic’s death. They were alive when he swallowed them, but they didn’t last very long.”
“Neither did he,” said Mac.
Taylor took one last look at the milky looking liquid Sid was waving around, and hitched up her dress before bolting out of the morgue to the bathroom.
“Neither did she,” quipped Sid.
* * *
“The powers that be have a plan,” she mumbled to herself as she washed her face. “Of course they have a plan. I just don’t understand why it has to involve me looking at body parts.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t like this, you know?” she shouted to the empty room. She threw her paper towel into the trash can and turned around, to find another ghost staring at her.
Unlike the last one, Randy, this one was probably a good ten years older. He was wearing a suit, and had marks around his neck – he had been hung. “Help me,” he rasped.
Taylor frowned. Was this going to be another serial killer? The ghost held up a paper cup of coffee, and disappeared. Taylor sighed, and headed back to the morgue, hoping to catch Mac. He wasn’t there, but Stella was.
“Hey Taylor, nice dress,” she complimented her.
“I was at the opera with Lindsay when a ghost decided to pay a visit,” Taylor explained. She let out a yawn. “Is Mac around? I have another ghost for him.”
Stella shook her head. “He went upstairs a few minutes ago – you just missed him.”
“Sorry for the delay. QT and I were busy necking,” Sid said, as he walked into the room before Taylor had a chance to disappear.
“Come again?” asked Stella, in horror.
“Necking – looking at his neck. You don’t think I’d kiss a corpse, do you?” Sid asked her with a slightly amused, and slightly horrified, tone of voice.
“No, no. Of course not,” said Stella hurriedly.
Taylor had been about to leave, but at that comment, stopped and did a double take. “I’m sorry? That’s disgusting.”
“I agree,” said Sid.
“As long as we got that straight,” muttered Taylor.
“So, Sid, cause of death?” asked Stella as Sid pulled back the sheet from Stella’s victim.
Taylor stopped and glanced over, “A second case?!” she exclaimed in disbelief.
Sid looked over and gave her a puzzled look. “This is New York, dear. We don’t just deal with one body a night.”
“I know, but…” She trailed off – perhaps it would be better to let Sid assume that she was that naïve.
“Hey, Sid?”
The three of them looked over to the door, where Marty was stood. “You have a phone call.”
Sid nodded. “Do you want to take over the COD for me?”
Marty nodded and replaced Sid, who quickly left. “Ghost?” Marty asked Taylor as he pulled on some gloves.
“Two of them,” muttered Taylor. “Separate cases.”
“Really?”
“Do you know, then?” asked Stella, in surprise.
Marty looked over at Taylor, and then at Stella. “Yeah,” he told her, shortly. “Cause of death, asphyxiation. However, not from hanging out of a forty story window. Petechiae in both eyes, but haemorrhaging in the ligature on the neck.”
“And for the person who doesn’t work in a crime lab?” Taylor asked wearily.
“That seems a little debateable these days,” said Stella.
“Tell me about it,” said Marty. “You’re here more than I am.”
“Well, if you stopped bunking off to watch sports, you’d fare a bit better,” muttered Taylor.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Stella, as Marty sent Taylor a glare. “So his heart stopped pumping blood before he was hung,” she said, to both explain to Taylor, and to change the subject.
“Strange thing is, he was strangled at some point, prior to his death,” continued Marty, after a final glare at Taylor. “See the bruising around his neck?” he asked, pointing. “The noose didn’t make these marks – these are fingernail marks and dug into the neck. Lucky for us, the killer had something chalky underneath the nails.”
“Right, let’s run a mass spec on that; see what our killer had his hands on, besides QT Hammer’s neck,” Stella said, nodding.
“There’s something green in his throat,” Marty told them, opening QT’s mouth.
“Do I really wanna look?” muttered Taylor.
“Evidence knows no bounds,” said Marty, handing her a torch. “Hold that, yeah, perfect, perfect.”
“Green fibres,” said Stella, examining the item as Marty held it up for her.
“My guess is the killer suffocated him with something green. Pillow, towel, handkerchief.”
“Coffee,” Taylor corrected them.
“Coffee?”
Taylor nodded, “QT came to visit, and he had coffee.”
“Alright,” said Stella, “Lets run a tox. This case just went from suicide to murder.”
She disappeared to out of the morgue, leaving Taylor, Marty, and a dead body. Marty cocked his eyebrow at her. “Life is so much easier when you have someone who believes you,” she smiled.
“Bunking off?” Marty asked her, slowly.
Taylor arched her eyebrows back at him. “I dare you to try and deny it.” Marty stared at her. “What?” asked Taylor suspiciously. The next thing she knew, Marty had charged around from the other side of the table, locked her against him with one arm, and was using his free one to tickle her. Taylor, who was extremely ticklish, squealed loudly.
“Ahem!”
Marty and Taylor froze, and found Sid stood in the doorway watching them. Marty dropped Taylor, and she hurriedly straightened her dress, whilst trying to stop laughing. “I um… I should… erm, yeah. I’m going to go find Mac,” she stammered, before dashing out of the door.
Sid smiled at Marty, “You and the journalist, huh?”
Marty shrugged, “I don’t know,” he responded, watching Taylor’s retreating figure.
Unlike the last one, Randy, this one was probably a good ten years older. He was wearing a suit, and had marks around his neck – he had been hung. “Help me,” he rasped.
Taylor frowned. Was this going to be another serial killer? The ghost held up a paper cup of coffee, and disappeared. Taylor sighed, and headed back to the morgue, hoping to catch Mac. He wasn’t there, but Stella was.
“Hey Taylor, nice dress,” she complimented her.
“I was at the opera with Lindsay when a ghost decided to pay a visit,” Taylor explained. She let out a yawn. “Is Mac around? I have another ghost for him.”
Stella shook her head. “He went upstairs a few minutes ago – you just missed him.”
“Sorry for the delay. QT and I were busy necking,” Sid said, as he walked into the room before Taylor had a chance to disappear.
“Come again?” asked Stella, in horror.
“Necking – looking at his neck. You don’t think I’d kiss a corpse, do you?” Sid asked her with a slightly amused, and slightly horrified, tone of voice.
“No, no. Of course not,” said Stella hurriedly.
Taylor had been about to leave, but at that comment, stopped and did a double take. “I’m sorry? That’s disgusting.”
“I agree,” said Sid.
“As long as we got that straight,” muttered Taylor.
“So, Sid, cause of death?” asked Stella as Sid pulled back the sheet from Stella’s victim.
Taylor stopped and glanced over, “A second case?!” she exclaimed in disbelief.
Sid looked over and gave her a puzzled look. “This is New York, dear. We don’t just deal with one body a night.”
“I know, but…” She trailed off – perhaps it would be better to let Sid assume that she was that naïve.
“Hey, Sid?”
The three of them looked over to the door, where Marty was stood. “You have a phone call.”
Sid nodded. “Do you want to take over the COD for me?”
Marty nodded and replaced Sid, who quickly left. “Ghost?” Marty asked Taylor as he pulled on some gloves.
“Two of them,” muttered Taylor. “Separate cases.”
“Really?”
“Do you know, then?” asked Stella, in surprise.
Marty looked over at Taylor, and then at Stella. “Yeah,” he told her, shortly. “Cause of death, asphyxiation. However, not from hanging out of a forty story window. Petechiae in both eyes, but haemorrhaging in the ligature on the neck.”
“And for the person who doesn’t work in a crime lab?” Taylor asked wearily.
“That seems a little debateable these days,” said Stella.
“Tell me about it,” said Marty. “You’re here more than I am.”
“Well, if you stopped bunking off to watch sports, you’d fare a bit better,” muttered Taylor.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Stella, as Marty sent Taylor a glare. “So his heart stopped pumping blood before he was hung,” she said, to both explain to Taylor, and to change the subject.
“Strange thing is, he was strangled at some point, prior to his death,” continued Marty, after a final glare at Taylor. “See the bruising around his neck?” he asked, pointing. “The noose didn’t make these marks – these are fingernail marks and dug into the neck. Lucky for us, the killer had something chalky underneath the nails.”
“Right, let’s run a mass spec on that; see what our killer had his hands on, besides QT Hammer’s neck,” Stella said, nodding.
“There’s something green in his throat,” Marty told them, opening QT’s mouth.
“Do I really wanna look?” muttered Taylor.
“Evidence knows no bounds,” said Marty, handing her a torch. “Hold that, yeah, perfect, perfect.”
“Green fibres,” said Stella, examining the item as Marty held it up for her.
“My guess is the killer suffocated him with something green. Pillow, towel, handkerchief.”
“Coffee,” Taylor corrected them.
“Coffee?”
Taylor nodded, “QT came to visit, and he had coffee.”
“Alright,” said Stella, “Lets run a tox. This case just went from suicide to murder.”
She disappeared to out of the morgue, leaving Taylor, Marty, and a dead body. Marty cocked his eyebrow at her. “Life is so much easier when you have someone who believes you,” she smiled.
“Bunking off?” Marty asked her, slowly.
Taylor arched her eyebrows back at him. “I dare you to try and deny it.” Marty stared at her. “What?” asked Taylor suspiciously. The next thing she knew, Marty had charged around from the other side of the table, locked her against him with one arm, and was using his free one to tickle her. Taylor, who was extremely ticklish, squealed loudly.
“Ahem!”
Marty and Taylor froze, and found Sid stood in the doorway watching them. Marty dropped Taylor, and she hurriedly straightened her dress, whilst trying to stop laughing. “I um… I should… erm, yeah. I’m going to go find Mac,” she stammered, before dashing out of the door.
Sid smiled at Marty, “You and the journalist, huh?”
Marty shrugged, “I don’t know,” he responded, watching Taylor’s retreating figure.
Originally posted: 31/05/2006