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5
MARK
The cavernous morguein the basement of the Institute of Forensic Medicine is just as cold and forbidding as always. It’s not just that the temperature is always low in morgues, it’s also the many narrow hallways and rooms decorated in steel grey and blue and the sheet LED lights which give off a cool white, slightly blue-toned light.
The postmortem on the latest victim hasn’t been started yet, the young pathologist who escorts us into the morgue tells us. But she is already prepped on one of the stainless steel tables, her outline clearly visible under the white sheet. She was tall and thin, and physically attractive, by the looks of things.
This room holds six tables and is lined with the refrigerated cubicles where bodies wait to be examined on one side. Death is one thing, but a room where death is stored—which this is—that’s another thing altogether. It’s the coldest, saddest, most depressing room in the world. We all end up in these sterile, heartless places eventually. I try not to think about that too much, but I’m having a hard time ignoring it today.
“I didn’t know the task force was taking an interest in this case,” Dr. Marolt, the head of the pathology department, says as she enters the room through one of the smaller side doors that lead into this room.
We’re not, I want to tell her, but that’s just a weird impulse thought that flashes through my mind. I am fully committed to giving this investigation my one-hundred percent.
“We’re primarily interested in the connection of last night’s victims with other similar murders that occurred in the past,” Eva answers diplomatically when I don’t speak right away.
I’m glad she’s not lunging right into explaining that she thinks the police have it all wrong, though what she said isn’t far from it.
I’m starting to accept just how much politics there is to running a task force like ours. I never encountered such a high need for making sure I didn’t step on toes while I was still working as a US Military Special Investigator.
“I understand you haven’t started the postmortem, but have you performed a toxicology test yet?” I ask.
“I think so, let me check,” she says and walks to the long tables that run along one whole side of this room. It holds all the tools, dishes and paperwork for the procedures they perform here. She returns with a folder out of which she pulls a sheet of paper and scans it.
“Yes, the toxicology report revealed a high level of diazepam in her system,” Marolt says and looks up at us. “That’s a common ingredient in anti-anxiety medications.”
“But no illegal drugs?” Eva asks. “No heroin or cocaine?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Marolt says and fixes her glasses so they cover her eyes completely. They make her irises appear tiny. “But we’re still waiting on the full results for this victim.”
“And the other two victims, did they have illegal drugs in their systems?” Eva insists.
Marolt grumbles softly and sifts through the folder she’s holding again, pulling out two more tox reports and reading them silently. She’s exuding a nervous, agitated energy though, so I’m not sure how much of what she’s reading is actually finding its way into her brain.
“High levels of prescription anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications were found in the bloodstream of the other two victims, Xanax and Zoloft, to be precise,” Dr. Marolt says finally, and squints at us through her glasses. “But no illegal drugs.”
“That would seem to indicate that the victims weren’t meeting their drug dealers on the nights that they were killed, wouldn’t it?” Eva asks pointedly.
Marolt straightens her back and glares at her. “Zoloft and Xanax, along with many other prescription drugs, are sold on the black market too. More and more these days.”
“The man they have in custody has a history of selling marijuana and cocaine,” Eva says. “Not Xanax and such.”
Dr. Marolt shrugs and stays silent, still seeming very defensive. And nervous.
“I can’t comment on that because I know nothing about it,” she says sternly. “I just know what the autopsies revealed. The previous two victims were stabbed through the heart with a long, narrow and very sharp blade, and from the preliminary examination, it appears that this victim was as well. One stab. Clean and precise. The victims were most likely approached from behind, incapacitated in some way and stabbed by a right-handed assailant upward through the heart.”
“There are no signs that the victims fought back?” I ask. “No defensive wounds or bruising?”
She shakes her head. “It appears they trusted their attacker enough to let them get close and did not expect to be attacked. Now, I’m not a detective, but this would suggest that the meetings were not random, that they were prearranged. Such as for buying drugs. Wouldn’t you say?”
She does not like us poking around in this case, that much is certain. We’ve collaborated on a number of cases before now, and she’s always been very professional and forthcoming with information. She also always stuck to the facts of what her postmortem examination revealed and never spun theories on what they might mean. And she certainly never commented on how the local detectives, or us for that matter, interpreted her findings. Anus vs. themmentality seems to have taken hold since our last case together. I probably should’ve expected it sooner. We are butting into their investigations a lot and no one likes that.
Eva reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her crumpled up list of names. Her hand is shaking as she unfolds it, making the paper rustle. Marolt’s stand-offish attitude is clearly not lost on her either.
“I have a list of victims here…” she says. “A list of people that died in a similar way in the last twenty years. I believe all these cases might be connected.”
“I’ve been working here for over twenty years and I have found no such connection,” Marolt says as she stuffs the toxicology reports back into the folder and closes it forcibly, causing a gust of cool air to hit my face. Her eyes being so small behind the lenses of her glasses makes it seem like she’s looking at us from very far away.
“Tim Ban in November, 1999 was the first victim, I believe,” Eva says. “He was followed by Klara Ahlin and Tina Ceh in February and November, 2000.”
