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CSIs have been and gone for now, but they’ll be back once transport arrives and takes Coral to the George Stanley. For now, it’s just us and an overweight, overly egotistical medical examiner who talks while he works, drawing to my mind one very important question:
Do I love Minka for Minka, or simply because she’s prettier and less annoying than the alternative?
“You’re smirking.” As we move through the dim living room, Fletch glances across and grins. “Why are you smirking?”
“Because I caught feelings for Minka. And she’s only mildly less annoying than Kernicke.”
He snorts. “Were you considering fucking Kernicke?”
“Not unless I got desperate.”
Passing through the front foyer, we follow our noses and step into the temporary bedroom to find Doctor Kernicke examining the decomposing Coral.
“What do we have, Doctor?”
“Well…” His voice is deep and slow. Thick, like he comes from somewhere lacking in education. “She’s dead. We know that for sure.”
Fletcher chokes out a soft laugh and breaks away to head back into the front room. “I’m glad we got that settled.”
At a knock at the front door, silence cloaks us all except for the sound of Fletch’s gun being slid from its holster. I remain where I am, my eyes on Coral and Kernicke. The fact the visitor is knocking implies they’re not a threat.
“Well, hell.” Fletch unlocks the door and pulls it open. “Doctor Delicious. Why ain’t I surprised?”
“What the fuck?” Spinning out of the room and charging into the front foyer, I stop on the threshold and narrow my eyes at the beautiful Minka huffing and puffing on a pair of crutches. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Chief Medical Examiner Minka Mayet, reporting for duty.” With a sly grin, she hobbles through the door and bumps her way past me. “Where’s Doctor Kernicke?”
“This is not your case.” I turn away from Aubree as she comes through the door next. “Mayet! This isn’t your case.”
“They’re literallyallmy cases, Detective Malone. I run the George Stanley. But this one is especially mine. I’ve been on Kiera Chase since the moment she hit the ground.”
“You’re injured!”
She moves through the next doorway and finds Kernicke on her own; it’s not like the stench doesn’t lead the way. “I bumped my knee. This isn’t an injury, Detective. It’s a bumped knee. Doctor Kernicke? You can stay and assist if you wish, but this is my case.”
“No, I…” He glances up through plastic glasses and narrows his eyes. “I was called in, Doctor Mayet. This is mine.”
“This body is another in an ongoing investigation of three other homicides, and one attempted. I assure you, Doctor, Coral belongs to me. If you do not want to assist, you can head back to the George Stanley and get back to your other cases.”
She leans on her crutches, uses her armpits to hold all her weight, then she holds out her hands. Like magic, Aubree rushes around us and works to place gloves on her boss’ hands.
“Either way,” Minka spares a glance for Kernicke. “I’m taking over. Have you already requested transport, Doctor?”
“No. I didn’t get to that yet.”
“The longer she remains in this room, the more she decomposes. The fact is you should have documented in ten minutes or less and had her moved out so we can preserve whatever there is left to test.”
“She’s been here for weeks already. What’s an hour or two?”
“The fact you have to ask that causes me great concern.” She hobbles past Kernicke and gently takes Coral’s wrist in her hand. “What have you achieved in your hour or two with the body, Doctor?”
Wordlessly, Aubree documents with asnap, snap, snapof the camera.
“Drew?” Minka tries again. “Where are you up to? Report, then I’ll continue from there.”
Kernicke tears his glasses off so the plastic groans. “This isn’t a race, Doctor Mayet. Our job is to be thorough.”
