Page 38 of A Rose of Steel
Chapter Eighteen
“Hello, Bumper,” Auntie walked to the front doors with me when the ambulance arrived with the body. She laid her hand on him and spoke to him through his black bag as they wheeled the gurney into the autopsy room. “We’re here to see what happened to you. To take care of everything.”
The attendant looked at me as I signed the release form attached to his clipboard. “She talks to dead people,” I said and smiled.
He chuckled. “Do they ever talk back?” he asked.
“She says they do,” I said then leaned in close. “They let her out of the home for the day and we forgot to bring her medication.”
He laughed as he took the signed form and left.
As I unzipped Bumper from his ebony-colored cocoon, Auntie’s conversation went into full swing. She pulled up a metal stool, sat at his head and chatted away. She told him all about her having people check their guns at the door, and how much trouble people gave her when it was time to give them back. How no one ever got to taste the food, and if that might have been a good thing seeing where he ended up. Then, she told him how pretty Jorianne looked and how she wished he could have seen her.
I pulled out the digital camera and started taking pictures.
“What a silly thing for the groom not to be able to see the bride in her wedding dress,” she continued, “what about if he died, like you did before the ceremony? How would he ever know how beautiful she looked?”
“Is this what you usually say to your dead guests?” I interjected, pausing my picture taking to query her.
“No,” she said, thoughtfully. “I usually talk about their family. Like who cried the most during our initial meeting, who was the phoniest, who was willing to fork over money if the insurance didn’t cover the burial. People want to know how their love ones reacted to their deaths.”
“Do they now,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Yes really,” she said. “But this is my first autopsy so I just thought I’d talk about a range of things and see what sticks.”
“With all your talking, it feels like the only thing sticking is a dagger in my side. You’re killing me and if you don’t pipe down,” I said, “it’ll be your last autopsy.” I snapped a picture of her. “At least with me.”
She held up her hand to shield her face.
“Don’t take my picture. Did you see that, Bumper? She doesn’t take this seriously, does she?”
I let her talk while I finished taking photos, putting my gear on and stuffing her into a safety shield and gown, but when I pulled down the mic close to me to start the autopsy, I had to shush her.
“Auntie,” I said, “I can’t have my dictation peppered with your ramblings. Time to stop that inane chatter.”
“I’m just making him comfortable so he’ll tell us all he knows. I told him we need his help to find out who did this to him.”
“I heard you. Are you finished, yet?” I asked.
“Yes. I think so,” she said, sincerity in her voice. “Just one more thing I need to say.”
“What?” I asked.
“No. I mean to Bumper.”
“Oh. Well, go ahead.”
“I just want to apologize, Bumper. I’m so very sorry this happened to you. Especially that it happened to you at my place.”
“Is that it?”
“Yep,” she said, and gave a single nod.
I turned on the mic, and then she leaned in close to Bumper and I heard her whisper, “She’s so snippy.”
“I heard that,” I said. “And so did my mic. I need to do the talking now. Me into my mic.” I pointed up to it. “It’s time to open him up and get down to business.”
“Okay,” she said and hopped off the stool. “You take care of your business, while I take care of mine. I have to run to the little girl’s room. By the time I get back, you’ll probably be inside and we can see what really happened to poor little Bumper.”
