EP 04: A BODY IN THE MORGUE

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As something extra - and fun - there's going to be a Q&A after ep. 05!

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EPISODE FOUR

'a body in the morgue'

"I'M ALMOST TOO afraid to ask, but I feel like if I don't, I'll regret it later on," I said as I matched Leon's pace as the three of us, feeling a weird sense of deja vu, walked together with the inspector leading the front.

"Hm?"

"Who's Moriarty?"

"Oh, that's Dr. Hamel. His real name is Faris Moriarty Hamel. Parents were a fan of the Sherlock books. Their house is a literal memoir of the series. They find me positively amusing."

"Oh. That's a grabbed opportunity, the name. I'm more of Hercule Poirot fan myself."

Leon hummed, a slight quirk in his lips blossoming. "But don't ever call him by his first full name. Hates it to the core."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He gave me a warm look but it felt wrong. I reached for his hand, feelings be damned, and squeezed. His eyebrows rose but I didn't want to say anything. I wanted him to answered without words.

I'm here.

He blinked then nodded, squeezing back. I know.

It wasn't romantic, nothing of the sort. It was a reassurance of presence. A comradeship to hold on to.

"We're here," James announced and I broke away from him.

"We're underground," I observed. Several floors at least. I'd notice that as we passed down each floor, fewer people seemed to be around. At this floor, there was literally no one else.

"Yeah, it's Mor's private morgue."

"He has a private morgue?"

James' smile was biting. "It's an honor to be ripped open by one Dr. Moriarty."

"Call me that again and I'll rip you a new hole, Jimmy," called another familiar, smooth, deep voice.

The familiar form of the gorgeous, lovingly carved statue-like Dr. Hamel came out from the door, his expression flat and bleak as always.

"Idiots. Miss Cain," he greeted. "I've deduced from James' warning of his arrival that Dominic is not going to make it easy for us to pick apart his murder."

"I've concluded as much." James sighed. "He's giving us everything. The murder weapon, his will and testament, and his body."

"Except the murderer," Dr. Hamel said, eyebrows knitted. "Which pretty much rolls the entire dice of the game."

"Precisely," James said. "Dominic came into this world with a bang, and he'll be damned if he's not going out the same way."

Leon cleared his throat. "But is it really him? He's really..." He swallowed, the words stuck on his throat.

Dr. Hamel's gaze doesn't soften, but the curl between his forehead is smoothened over. His fingers clench and unclench, as if he wants to comfort Leon but their relationship, as it is, isn't a physically welcomed one.

"Check for yourself," he finally said instead. His voice, steady as always. Hard to pick apart at the tone because it was neither warm, heated, cool or cold. His tells were quieter. "But I'm sure it's him this time. Dominic is dead."

———

Dr. Hamel had saved up gloves, an entire blue plastic suit, masks, and a hair covering for us all, taking us a time before we were allowed inside.

"And these too." Dr. Hamel raised a few more plastics. "These are for your shoes."

James grunted beside me, whispering, "he's really a pain in the arse about contamination. Which I can appreciate of course, but I literally look like a tit in this."

"You look like a tit regardless of the attire, Inspector," Dr. Hamel said flatly.

James threw him a glare.

"I'm done," Leon said. "Wendy?"

"Yes, I'm done." I stood straight, feeling like an encompassed marshmallow.

"Let's go."

"Uh, mate-" James started to protest.

"You can come later," Leon cut off, his expression wrong; tense. "Wendy and I will go first. Come on." He held out his hand and I took it, not before shooting a meaningful look at the other two.

The doors opened and blinding white light poured in perfect harmony to a cadaver resting at the centre in glossy metal. The room is simple; white tiles upon white, metals and tubes and a desk with papers and sharply cleaned tools. The smell is harsh to the nostrils, almost dizzying, but Leon moved forward. Less for the wonder to dissect, the usual ardor to crime, but more of the march of a soldier.

Dominic Prince looked nothing like the few photos I've seen him in, splashed across news sites in various states of bright glow from the flash of cameras or those perfectly done up photos for some magazine spread or the other.

His smile was always the first thing you see. An alight self-imposed ego that had the backing of a billionaire and being the world's socialite sweetheart.

Dominic Prince now is nothing short of a cadaver pulled open, dissected, and sewn back together again.

Nothing about him looked alive at all.

Leon pulled a shaky breath through his mouth. He went up to the body and I watched, transfixed, as he pulled Dominic's lips apart and was seemingly checking his teeth.

"... Leon?" I called out, unsure of what to do from here. How to comfort someone who isn't even sure if he's grieving yet.

Also someone checking someone's dental care.

His voice was normal, steady, as he said, "His gold tooth is here, but I'm not buying it yet. At the back, far left. Second one... Can you help me turn him over? I'll pull him over here and you check if there are scars on his back. They should look long and jagged like they came from a whip with four elongated metals." Leon turned to the dead, his expression stiff and deadened. "This is your fault. A woman is about to see your most well kept secret. So if you want to stop it, this isn't the time to be laying still."

I stared at him, unsure if I should call someone until I saw the desperation in his eyes.

"Please, Wendy."

I took a deep breath and helped prop up Dominic Prince to his side. Cadavers are fleshy and cold, like dolls with human skin and the feeling made me nauseous. Still, I took pains in reminding myself of all the other times Leon pulled me into figuring out cases with only a dead body to go on with. Of course those were his staffs, still warm and alive and only pretending to be dead. And it was all just a little play of playing detective whilst actually learning a thing or two about investigation.

This was an actual dead body and the feeling of their skin and body is much, much more different.

And Dominic Prince was quite heavy. As soon as he was well and propped enough, my eyes followed through the exact same pattern of scars as Leon described. It was only tack and the small practices I gave myself to at least control my shock when faced a dead body.

After seeing a dying one, it really set things in perspective.

My eyes followed scars, long and deep, in not even perfect incisions, but jagged where you know skin tried to mend itself but the way the cuts were made ensured a disfigured healing.

Leon was studying every emotion that came to my face. At the final one, he exhaled a shaky breath and set Dominic back down.

He was close to tears. Or panic. I can feel the shift. But before I could come close and offer useless comfort, a lighting speed of movement and Leon had stabbed the body with a scalpel straight to his chest.

"Leon! Oh my god!" I pulled him back, keeping the bile from my throat from rising at the sight of the shiny metal over at the clean body. No blood pooled out of him, having been drained beforehand most likely. I gagged.

"Oi, What's - good fuck, did you do that for, mate?" James grabbed Leon by the back end and pulled, while I was at his front, pushing.

"Let him go," Dr. Hamel said with a sigh, going round the body and pulling out the scalpel. "Now, you two. He was just making sure. Now he knows it's Dominic - you've checked the scars and his molars, I presume, so you had to check if he really was dead. Emotion made you stab him."

"That emotion of yours really needs some working on the physical reflex, mate," James grumbled before letting Leon go.

But he wasn't even fighting.

"He couldn't even pull one last miracle, huh?" Leon said, his voice soft, pained. The words almost wrangled out of his lips. "I know that... miracles are for idiots and the damned gets what's coming for them but..." Leon heaved and now he was on the floor, burrowed head over his knees.

James unclenched his jaw and peered at the body, his hands in fists. "I'd also never really thought of seeing him like this. Where's the gunshot wound?"

"Oh. Here." Dr. Hamel pushed back Dominic's hair where a sizeable hole gaped. I gagged again, mortified. How I didn't notice it odd that his hair was pushed forward during a dissection, I wouldn't know.

"I thought it best not to show it to Leon first..."

"He might've believed he was dead straight away though," said James.

Dr. Hamel looked at him flatly. "You know as well as I do, that Leon will never believe what he sees until he's picked it apart himself and made his own findings. And Dominic has done this too many times that it's not exactly as shocking after the last few."

James huffed, humour lining his eyes. But I saw the watery edges. Despite the bravado, the hands on his hips, that grandiose little smile to honour a friend, the Inspector was finally grieving.

"Well I can't say I blame you now for stabbing him," he said to Leon, who was still on the floor, trying not to exist. He turned to me. "He was like a magician. You never saw what the next trick is until it's in front of you and you didn't even see what happened."

"That makes it sound like he's a pickpocket," I said, my voice weirdly hoarse.

James and Dr. Hamel shared a look before laughing. Leon, I noticed, was still. Too still.

If you looked at them like this, you can see a picture in your mind. Before Leon's pariah status, before he was incarcerated.

Dominic Prince with his ardor of smug and ego. Dr. Hamel with his sturdy posture and pressed calm. James Brackham with his crossed arms and pinched expressions, fighting back a smile. Leon Song with his carefree looks and clever grins.

You see them as they were, boys of the trade, comrades in arms.

But now two of them are keeping their grief within clenched teeth and arms,  trying their best to be the stronger ones, while one of them is on the floor, his own grief spilling out of him. Unable to even stand. And of course, the one unmoving and cold, unable to smile or to comfort. Or to make one more miracle happen.

It was a frigid picture, going back and forth. And as an outsider, all I can do is observe.

Human connections are so fragile.

Sometimes, it takes a dead body to see that.

I knew this from experience.

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NEXT:

EPISODE 05

THE CASTLE ON THE BUILDING

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