Page 9 of Vanish From Sight
4
Saturday, November 19, 1:15 p.m.
To say they were behind the curve would have been an understatement.
After local PD finally managed to get a coroner out to the lake to pronounce the death of the Jane Doe, EMTs transported her to Adirondack Medical Center that evening for an autopsy by the medical examiner.
They couldn’t notify next of kin until they could identify the victim.
That was the problem, there was no ID found on her.
As Noah and Ray strolled down the hallway, his OCD kicked in, something had been bothering him. “So what was the deal with the delay in getting a coroner last night?” Noah asked Ray.
“Laziness.”
“What?”
Ray glanced at him with a grin. “Ah, that’s right, brother, you’re a big city boy. You’re used to large cities where everythingworks like clockwork. Well, welcome to small-town bullshit. There’s been an ongoing debate between the coroners and town officials. The budget pays for four coroners to cover jurisdictions, but best of luck trying to get one of them to show up, let alone pick up the phone. You should talk to Oscar Westborough if you want the full skinny.”
“Who?”
“The coroner you saw last night. Metal head. The one that showed up looking like he’d just rolled out of bed or walked out of a heavy weed session.” He chuckled. “He’s forever ranting about the others. Apparently, one coroner heads off to Florida in the winter, one disconnects his phone, and the other makes it hard to reach them. And yet the crazy part is, they still get paid. It’s a real shit show.”
“Why don’t they just fire the others?”
“It’s an elected position. There really is no oversight and they have few other options. Eliminating or changing things up takes work, lawyers and time that no one really has. As long as one shows up, they don’t care.”
“Insane.”
Ray stopped at a machine to get some coffee. He tossed in a few coins and stepped back. “In other states and counties, it may be different, but around here, Noah, the coroners are for the most part funeral directors. They decide if an autopsy is necessary. They pronounce the person dead and often bring the deceased to the hospital. For that they get paid around $4,400 a year. It’s pocket change. But hey, you already know this.”
“I was just curious.”
“Coffee?”
He nodded.
Ray turned to him. “Well, you got extra change?”
“You hard up?”
“Who’s not, right?”
Noah handed off a few coins and Ray leaned against the machine. “So, did you smooth things out with you and Tanya?” He asked because when he arrived back in High Peaks a few weeks ago, he’d asked if he could stay in one of Ray’s spare rooms until he found a place. Ray couldn’t put him up. He cited issues with Tanya.
“Oh, you know us. Smooth is rough, and rough is smooth,” he replied before shaking the machine and giving it a kick. “Come on, you piece of crap!”
Noah placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ray. It’s fine. I’ll get one later.”
“No. The damn thing took our money. Hey, miss!” he hollered down the hallway to a nurse. “You think you can get someone to open this up? It ate our change and never spat out the coffee.”
The young woman looked perplexed.
“Ray. Leave it.” Noah waved off the nurse and pulled him away but not before his brother gave the machine a good kick.
“Piece of crap!”
“What the hell has gotten into you? It’s just coffee.”
