Page 44 of One
“So touchy,” Rami mumbles.
The swinging door on the other side of the room opens and an old man wearing a server’s black uniform comes in, holding a tray with three baskets full of fragrant-looking bread and two carafes of water. He places everything on the table and then, in an impeccable Downtown Abbey-like accent, he says to Meg, “Dinner is ready. May I start serving, madam?”
“Yes, thank you Ferdinand.”
“Drinks?” he adds.
One by one, everybody answers. Ferdinand finally turns to me. “Dr. Caldwell, what would you like?”
“Water is fine. And please, call me Michael.” I give him what I hope is a kind smile.
“Very well, Michael. Ferdinand, at your service.” That’s a bit intense, but everybody in this family is. Why would the house staff be an exception?
“You’re a coroner, right?” Gabe asks me when Ferdinand leaves.
“Among other things. Forensic pathologist is actually more specific.” I sound a bit defensive, but I can’t help it against the probing gaze he has focused on me.
“What’s the difference?” Rague asks, tossing a whole piece of bread inside his cavernous mouth, almost making the buttons on his front shirt pop open with the movement.
“Coroners aren’t usually physicians; they aren’t trained in medicine, forensic medicine, or forensic science,” Sari says. “A medical examiner or forensic pathologist is required to be certified in the medical specialty of forensic pathology, and experienced in the forensic sciences. But nowadays, coroner, medical examiner, and forensic pathologist are kind of interchangeable.” When he finishes explaining, Sari shoots me a look that seems to say, ‘right?’
I nod with a small smile on my lips. And they say don’t meet your heroes. He’s so incredibly smart, but down to earth. Beautiful, almost ethereal.
“I work for the Grand View Hospital, and in addition to determining cause of death through autopsy, I’m also responsible for identifying the body, notifying the next of kin, signing the death certificate, and returning any personal belongings found on the body to the family of the deceased—which is usually a coroner job. I also conduct or order an inquest into the manner or cause of death.”
“Sounds like a full-time job,” Rague says.
“Grand View is the second biggest hospital in the city of Chicago. But the doctors are pretty good. That means less work for me.”
“Oh, how’s the Rope Killer case going?” Meg asks.
“How do you…?” I turn to look at Raph.
He just lifts his eyes to Rami, and I glare at the gym rat.
“What? It’s not Mission Impossible top-secret information. Plus, the police are doing a horrendous job at finding them,” he says with not an ounce of guilt, before thanking Ferdinand for the bottle of beer he placed on the table.
“How do you know that?” But as soon as I finish talking, I know the answer to my question. “You hacked into the police database.”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘hacking’ when a child with a laptop, a few Redbulls, and some time to spare could do it.” He shrugs.
“A child with Redbulls?” I vacillate between giving him a derisive laugh and a hard slap on the head.
“Rami, you have the emotional intelligence of a cabbage,” Gabe mutters flatly.
“He looks more like a beet to me,” Rague chips in.
“A peach with all the fuzzy hair on his face.” Sounds like Sari put some thought into it.
“A banana,” Uri says. We all look at him, mostly with confused expressions. “He looks stupid… like a banana.”
“Fuckyouverymuch.” Rami flips him off and then swings the middle finger to the others.
“We have a guest; can you please act like adults for once?” Meg huffs. Now I understand why she uses the termkidswhen talking about them.
“So, Rope Killer?” Uri asks, looking eager.
“Lame name.” Gabe shakes his head slowly.
