collaborators. A talented
collaborator can remain almost invisible. As I wheel into the main entrance
gate of the
Medical Examiner’s Office and turn off in t h e
ignition. A Security Guard comes out
carrying bright pink high heel shoes.
“I
hope those aren’t his,” remarks Captain West. “Listen. I don’t think I know a
Dr. Bhat,” he again remarks.
I sat there holding my keys watching the Security Guard place the boots into the truck
of a red Kia. As the guard passes a badge in front of an electronic key pad, “I need to ask
Dr . B ha t a few questions.”
Captain West finally caught on, “Something didn’t quite add up about the cause of
death of Murdock?”
I continued watching the guard enter the building as we both get of the car. “You
could say that.” I glance and smile at Captain West, “If you’re going to lie at least tell a
logical line that adds up and makes sense.”
Captain West rings the buzzer of the electronic door. We could see the guard seeing
at the desk through the glass window as the automatic doors opened and closed behind us.
We already had our badges in our hand, and give the customary quick flash. The guard
asks coldly, “What can I do for you.”
“I need to see Dr. Bhat,” I answer.
“They’ve been searching for Dr. Bhat since yesterday,” replies the guard. He points
to the clip board on the desk, and “I need you to sign in.”
Captain West signs in first and then I pick up the clip board, and glance at the date
and names and
immediately
notice,
names
and
immediately
I recognize
morning. I ask, “He’s missing?”
“He came in,
but there is no record of him ever
leaving
the
building…strangest
thing I’ve ever seen,” says the guard. The guard gets t h e
call on his, “We’ve found Dr.
Bhat!
Captain West was relieved, “Good.”
“Call the police,” said the female voice on the radio.
The radio is attached to the shoulder of his
uniform and pushes the button on the shoulder of his radio, “The police are here, and they
need to talk to Dr. Bhat.”
The female voice, “Talking to him is going to be very difficult.”
The guard smiles me as I lean on the edge of the tall desk and he asks, “Why is that?”
The female voice pauses, “We just
found him in one of the meat lockers, dead.”
Captain West and I glance at one another as the guard releases the button, “What in
the heck?” He rushes from behind the desk, “Follow me!” We take off running down a
long hall as Captain West surprises everyone with his ability to keep up at a study pace.
the date,
Monday July 2, 2012.
I
glanced
at
the
one
name,
Tony
Rome
at
signed
in
at 7:30 that
Undertaker, Brad Mosley
I don’t know what’s wrong with my son, Troy. “Listen. Death and taxes are the only
certainty. You need to forget that Rasta-Dogg Rapper thing, and get into one field that
guaranteed to pay. Be an Undertaker. You can rap about that.”
Troy
looks
down
at
the
floorboard
of
the
Hurst,
then
blurts
out, “I
love
rapping…Dad I’m a great rapper.”
“You rap while you’re embalming.” I tried to rhyme, “I’m the Undertaker. Death is a
money maker. They’ll be cold as ice, but I’ll have them looking elegant…”
Troy roars, “I’d rather be a Rapper!”
I continue my rhyme, “I am not paying for that, and you can bank on that.”
I drive around to the back of the Medical Examiner’s Office as Troy slumps down
in the seat of the Hurst. Troy gets out, and I watch as he gives me the various hand signals
and I back the long white
Hurst
into the dock. I turn off the engine and grab my clip
board and Troy opens the back hatch and pulls out the gurney, then slams the hatch shut.
As we’re walking I tell Troy, “You need to be the Grand Master of your time or you’ll be a
slave to it.” Troy rings the bell as I look over the papers for the funeral arraignments.
Dr. Hussein’s laboratory attendant, Kristen opens the door, and Troy rolls in the Gurney
as
Kristen looked over the
forms.
collaborator can remain almost invisible. As I wheel into the main entrance
gate of the
Medical Examiner’s Office and turn off in t h e
ignition. A Security Guard comes out
carrying bright pink high heel shoes.
“I
hope those aren’t his,” remarks Captain West. “Listen. I don’t think I know a
Dr. Bhat,” he again remarks.
I sat there holding my keys watching the Security Guard place the boots into the truck
of a red Kia. As the guard passes a badge in front of an electronic key pad, “I need to ask
Dr . B ha t a few questions.”
Captain West finally caught on, “Something didn’t quite add up about the cause of
death of Murdock?”
I continued watching the guard enter the building as we both get of the car. “You
could say that.” I glance and smile at Captain West, “If you’re going to lie at least tell a
logical line that adds up and makes sense.”
Captain West rings the buzzer of the electronic door. We could see the guard seeing
at the desk through the glass window as the automatic doors opened and closed behind us.
We already had our badges in our hand, and give the customary quick flash. The guard
asks coldly, “What can I do for you.”
“I need to see Dr. Bhat,” I answer.
“They’ve been searching for Dr. Bhat since yesterday,” replies the guard. He points
to the clip board on the desk, and “I need you to sign in.”
Captain West signs in first and then I pick up the clip board, and glance at the date
and names and
immediately
notice,
names
and
immediately
I recognize
morning. I ask, “He’s missing?”
“He came in,
but there is no record of him ever
leaving
the
building…strangest
thing I’ve ever seen,” says the guard. The guard gets t h e
call on his, “We’ve found Dr.
Bhat!
Captain West was relieved, “Good.”
“Call the police,” said the female voice on the radio.
The radio is attached to the shoulder of his
uniform and pushes the button on the shoulder of his radio, “The police are here, and they
need to talk to Dr. Bhat.”
The female voice, “Talking to him is going to be very difficult.”
The guard smiles me as I lean on the edge of the tall desk and he asks, “Why is that?”
The female voice pauses, “We just
found him in one of the meat lockers, dead.”
Captain West and I glance at one another as the guard releases the button, “What in
the heck?” He rushes from behind the desk, “Follow me!” We take off running down a
long hall as Captain West surprises everyone with his ability to keep up at a study pace.
the date,
Monday July 2, 2012.
I
glanced
at
the
one
name,
Tony
Rome
at
signed
in
at 7:30 that
Undertaker, Brad Mosley
I don’t know what’s wrong with my son, Troy. “Listen. Death and taxes are the only
certainty. You need to forget that Rasta-Dogg Rapper thing, and get into one field that
guaranteed to pay. Be an Undertaker. You can rap about that.”
Troy
looks
down
at
the
floorboard
of
the
Hurst,
then
blurts
out, “I
love
rapping…Dad I’m a great rapper.”
“You rap while you’re embalming.” I tried to rhyme, “I’m the Undertaker. Death is a
money maker. They’ll be cold as ice, but I’ll have them looking elegant…”
Troy roars, “I’d rather be a Rapper!”
I continue my rhyme, “I am not paying for that, and you can bank on that.”
I drive around to the back of the Medical Examiner’s Office as Troy slumps down
in the seat of the Hurst. Troy gets out, and I watch as he gives me the various hand signals
and I back the long white
Hurst
into the dock. I turn off the engine and grab my clip
board and Troy opens the back hatch and pulls out the gurney, then slams the hatch shut.
As we’re walking I tell Troy, “You need to be the Grand Master of your time or you’ll be a
slave to it.” Troy rings the bell as I look over the papers for the funeral arraignments.
Dr. Hussein’s laboratory attendant, Kristen opens the door, and Troy rolls in the Gurney
as
Kristen looked over the
forms.
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