“Are enhancements to the weapons allowed?” Jack asked.
“You’d have to ask the coordinator a question like that,” Slack said. “She knows all the rules.”
“Who’s the coordinator?” Jack asked.
“Her name is Trish Johnson,” Slack said. “She’s around here somewhere with the president of the university and the legal team. They’ve got some damage control to do. News has already hit the airwaves.”
Jack nodded and then came over to where I was kneeling. “What more do you need to do here?”
“I can’t do more than a visual here without damaging tissue or compromising evidence,” I told him. “The metal from his chain mail is melted to his skin in places. I’m going to have to work some magic to remove it.”
“That sounds horrible,” Jack said.
“Most likely,” I told him. “Fortunately, he won’t feel a thing.”
Jack rolled his eyes and got back to his feet and then he held out a hand to help me up. “You have an evidence bag on you big enough for this sword?” Jack asked.
“Not even close,” I told him.
“There’s some trash bags in the supply closet,” Slack said, whistling at one of his campus policemen to bring him what he needed.
“Perfect,” Jack said. “I appreciate it.”
“Sheldon and the new intern should be here any second to remove the body and get him back to the funeral home,” I said.
“When did you get a new intern?” Jack asked.
“Today,” I said. “I got an email this morning from the University of Virginia telling me they were sending me a new intern. I put in the request weeks ago. I miss Lily already.”
“We just saw her three days ago,” Jack said.
“I know, but that was in a weird social setting. I’m not sure how I feel about seeing her and Cole together as a couple. She’s got stars in her eyes and he looks like he has no idea what he’s doing with her. Cole is used to experienced women who are used to the kind of games he plays. He’s going to end up breaking her heart and then I’m going to have to kill him.”
Jack sighed and his mouth tightened in a straight line. “They’re both adults.”
“Yeah, well, that’s up for debate,” I said. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll surprise us all and decide to settle down.”
Jack grunted and then nodded toward the tunnel. “There’s your boy.”
I turned and saw Sheldon Durkus wheeling a gurney toward us. The last rays of sunlight shone from the opposite end of the tunnel, giving Sheldon a silhouette that made him look like a small boy dressed in his dad’s baggy work clothes.
Sheldon was an unkempt, short man on the doughy side with a comb-over and Coke-bottle glasses. He was in his mid-twenties and had recently graduated from mortuary school, and I was almost positive he’d be living with his mother the rest of his life. He was brilliant at embalmings, but not so great with living people. There was an innocence about Sheldon that made him endearing, and a golden retriever kind of enthusiasm that made time spent with him best in small doses. Add those qualities to the fact that he was a constant spout of useless information, I’d found that Sheldon made me want to hug him and take up drinking in equal measure.
Behind Sheldon was my new intern. I’d had about ten minutes to talk with him before I’d been called to the crime scene, and I was still undecided on Blake Steed. I’d had to check his paperwork twice to make sure that was his real name. He looked like a young Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, and with a name like Blake Steed I wondered how he’d ended up in forensic pathology instead of the porn industry. But I guess we could be grateful for small favors.
“That’s the new intern?” Jack asked, looking at me and raising his brows.
“That’s what they tell me,” I said. “Wait until you hear his name.”
“Where are you getting your interns from?” Jack asked. “A casting agency?”
“It’s starting to feel that way,” I said. “I thought Lily was an anomaly, but maybe U of V has a pathology school for beautiful people. I’m not sure it matters. I don’t know if it’s going to work out with the new guy.”
“Why?” Jack asked, surprised. “I thought you needed someone.”
“I do,” I said. “But if he doesn’t stop hitting on me, he’s going to end up on my embalming table.”
“Who wouldn’t want to hit on you with that kind of sweet talk.”
I laughed out loud and watched as Sheldon and Blake collapsed the gurney so they could lift it up the stairs and into the ring. Sweat dotted Sheldon’s hairless upper lip and he turned an odd shade of green. He dropped his end of the gurney and pulled his shirt over his nose, his hot breath making his glasses fog up.
“Breathe slow and through your mouth,” I told him, afraid he might throw up on my crime scene.
“He gonna be okay?” Slack asked.
“Oh, sure,” I said. “He’s not all the way used to the smells yet. This isn’t nearly as bad as the lady who’d been eaten by her cats.”
Slack rocked back on his heels again as he watched Sheldon pace back and forth like a caged tiger while he tried to get himself under control.
“I’m okay,” Sheldon said, letting go of his shirt and taking off his glasses so he could wipe away the fog. “I’m good. Breathe through the mouth. Nice and slow and steady. I miss Lily. She always reminded me to breathe.”
“I’m sure Blake can help you out with that,” I said.
“Maybe,” Sheldon said, not sounding convinced. “Maybe not. Did you know fewer than seventy thousand people in the United States are named Blake?” He said it as if the small number somehow made Blake less able to perform the task of reminding a person to breathe.
“Nope,” I said. “Didn’t know that one. And I’m not sure why you do.”
“I looked it up after you introduced us,” Sheldon explained. “I’ve never known a Blake before.”
I wasn’t sure Blake had even realized that his name had just been said several times and that we were talking about him as if he weren’t standing right there. He wasn’t quite the same shade of green Sheldon had been a couple of minutes ago, but his tan didn’t look quite as healthy as when he’d first stepped into the ring.
“Whoa,” Blake said, his eyes widening as he stared at the victim. “This is, like…definitely not the same as the cadavers in class. I put Vicks in my nose though so I’m not going to throw up or anything.”
“That’s always a plus,” I said. It was an old body farm trick to put Vicks inside your nostrils to disguise the smell of decomposition or other postmortem odors.
I noticed Sheldon hadn’t taken his eyes off the victim once he’d gotten himself under control.
“Everything okay, Sheldon?” I asked.
“It’s…it’s Kaal Dracarian,” Sheldon said, his voice higher pitched than usual. He patted his front pant pocket and then dug inside, coming out with an inhaler. He took a couple of huffs and then shoved the inhaler back in his pocket.
“Also known as Kevin Schwartzman,” Jack said. “Our victim.”