AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What brings the master scourge of evildoers to the forensic palace?" Rooney asked amiably. "You slumming?"
"No, an identification by VIPs. I'd like you in on it."
"The bodies from the blimp," Rooney deduced.
Sweat nodded. "Mrs. LeBaron is here to view the remains."
"I don't recommend it. What's left of her husband isn't a pretty sight to someone who doesn't see death every day."
"I tried to tell her that identification of his effects would satisfy legal requirements, but she persisted.
Even brought along an aide from the governor's office to grease the way"
"Where are they?"
"Waiting in the morgue office."
"News media?"
"An entire regiment of TV and press reporters running around like crazy people. I've ordered my deputies to keep them confined to the lobby."
"Strange how the world works," said Rooney in one of his philosophical moods. "The renowned Raymond LeBaron gets front-page headlines while this poor baggage gets a column inch next to classified advertising." Then he sighed, removed his lab coat, and threw it over a chair. "Let's get it over with. I've got two more postmortems to conduct this afternoon."
As he spoke a tropical storm passed over and the sound of thunder rumbled through the walls.
Rooney slipped on a sports jacket and straightened his tie. They fell into step, Sweat staring down pensively at the design in the hallway carpet.
"Any idea on the cause of LeBaron's death?" asked the sheriff.
"Too soon to tell. The lab results were inconclusive. I want to run some more tests. Too many things don't add up. I don't mind admitting, this one is a puzzler."
"No guesses?"
"Nothing I'd put on paper. Problem is the incredibly rapid rate of decomposition. I've seldom seen tissue disintegrate so fast, except maybe once back in 1974."
Before Sweat could prod Rooney's recollection, they reached the morgue office and entered. The governor's aide, a slippery type in a three-piece suit, jumped up. Even before he opened his mouth, Rooney classified him as a jerk.
"Can we please get the show on the road, Sheriff. Mrs. LeBaron is most uncomfortable and would like to return to her hotel as soon as possible."
"I sympathize with her," the sheriff drawled. "But I shouldn't have to remind a public servant that there are certain laws we must follow."
"And I needn't remind you, the governor expects your department to extend every courtesy to ease her grief."
Rooney marveled at Sweat's stony patience. The sheriff simply brushed by the aide as though he were walking past trash on a sidewalk.
"This is our chief medical examiner, Dr. Rooney. He will assist with the identification."
Jessie LeBaron didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. She sat in an orange plastic contour chair, poised, cool, head held high. And yet Rooney sensed a fragility that was held together by discipline and nerve. He was an old hand at presiding over corpse identification by relatives. He'd suffered through the ordeal hundreds of times in his career and instinctively spoke softly and in a gentle manner.
"Mrs. LeBaron, I understand what you're going through and will make this as painless as possible. But first, I wish to make it clear that by simply identifying the effects found on the bodies you will satisfy the laws set down by the state and county. Second, any physical characteristics you can recall, such as scars, dental work, bone fractures, or surgical incisions, will be of great help in my own identification. And third, I respectfully beg you not to view the remains. Though facial features are still recognizable, decomposition has done its work. I think you'd be happier remembering Mr. LeBaron as he was in life rather than how he looks in a morgue."
"Thank you, Dr. Rooney," said Jessie. "I'm grateful for your concern. But I must be certain my husband is truly dead."
Rooney nodded miserably, and then gestured at a worktable containing several pieces of clothing, wallets, wristwatches, and other personal articles. "You've identified Mr. LeBaron's effects?"
"Yes, I have sorted through them."
"And you're satisfied they belonged to him?"
