by Jon Osborne
‘Could you bring us up to speed on what you found out with Christian Manhoff, Dr Johnson?’ Dana asked, wanting to break the heavy silence in the room. She needed conversation in the air right now – even if that conversation was with a man who despised her as much as Johnson did. Needed some sign of life amidst all this death. Needed to escape the haunting thoughts still floating around inside her brain and threatening to suck her down into the black hole of a clinical depression.
Johnson bristled, obviously irritated at the prospect of having to explain his exact, complicated science to an ignorant layperson such as Dana. ‘Not sure what exactly there is to bring you up to speed on, Agent Whitestone,’ he said gruffly. He shook his head in thinly veiled annoyance. ‘Someone shoved a large rawhide bone down Christian Manhoff’s throat and he choked to death on it. There isn’t much more to it than that.’
Dana eyed Manhoff’s naked body. ‘You didn’t cut him open,’ she observed, a sharp stab of irritation slicing hard through her chest at the nine-millionth example of Johnson’s incompetence. ‘There could be some evidence inside him, you know.’
Dana pressed her lips together while she waited for the coroner’s reply. The comment had been made to remind Johnson of the fact that he’d failed to fully autopsy the little girls in the Cleveland Slasher case the first time around – a mistake that had set back the investigation by at least three months by delaying the discovery of the plastic letters shoved inside the little girls’ uteruses. To remind Johnson of the fact that his carelessness had cost innocent people their lives. Had cost innocent children their lives.
‘I’m doing it tonight,’ Johnson said, clearly making up the lie right there on the spot. If nothing else, thirty years on the job had obviously taught him very well how to deal with people like Dana – people who seemed to exist for no other reason than to make his life more complicated. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow morning and let you know if I find anything interesting, but I highly doubt I will. To me, this death looks like somebody was in a big hurry. I wouldn’t count on finding any clever clues in this one.’
Dana nodded but also made a mental note to call the state medical board on Johnson. Enough was enough with this asshole already. There was no way in hell he should be allowed to continue operating in the slipshod manner he did. It just wasn’t fair to the victims or their families. ‘Great,’ Dana said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice but not quite accomplishing the feat. ‘I really hate to bother you any further, Dr Johnson, but is there be any way at all that I could also get a list of all the people who’ve worked here in the past three years? Including cleaning staff and maintenance workers? I’ll need their names, addresses and Social Security numbers. Also, any background information you might have on file would be extremely helpful. I want to find out if anyone who’s worked here – either now or in the past – might have had a reason to attach the photograph of my brother to Christian Manhoff’s body.’
Johnson waved a thin arm in the air, showcasing thick veins that pulsed like fat blue snakes in the back of his skeletal left hand. ‘I’ll have Nancy Lawson in human resources compile a list for you,’ he said. ‘You can pick it up from the receptionist at the front desk tomorrow morning.’
Johnson paused. ‘Will there be anything else you require of me, Agent Whitestone? As always, I’m at your complete and utter disposal.’
Dana shook her head, annoyed by Johnson’s flippant tone but knowing there wasn’t anything she could do about it right now. ‘Nope,’ she said in a clipped tone that matched the coroner’s perfectly. ‘That should just about cover it for the time being. Thank you so much for your help, Doctor. I really appreciate it. And I’ll let you know if and when I need something else from you, so please keep that in mind. Is your cellphone number still the same?’
Johnson worked his lips into a dull, gray smile, his worn-down teeth set into a crooked pink gum-line like concrete tombstones in an unkempt graveyard. ‘Sure is, Agent Whitestone. As a matter of fact, I even have you programmed into my contacts list. How about that for a nice surprise? Always happy to get a call from you.’
Just then, as if on cue, Gary Templeton’s own cellphone rang in his pocket. The Cleveland cop dug it out and placed the receiver to his ear. After a moment or two, he turned down the corners of his mouth.
Templeton flipped shut his cellphone and put it back into his pocket. ‘I’ve got to run, Dana,’ he said, shaking his head and checking his watch. ‘There’s been an armed robbery over at the Fifth Third Bank on Ontario Avenue. A squad car is coming to pick me up now. Chief says it’s an all-hands-on-deck type of thing. Will you be OK getting on with this on your own? I’ll call you tomorrow morning and touch base with you to see what you’ve found out.’
Dana smiled; enjoying the feeling of knowing someone was watching her back. The same feeling she’d had while she’d been working with Jeremy Brown. ‘Absolutely, Gary,’ she said, making yet another mental note, this time to call Bill Krugman down in Washington, DC, and check up on his wife’s medical condition just as soon as she got back to her car. She needed to hear the Director’s voice right now, to know that he and Marie were OK. Because along with Templeton, the Krugmans were just about the only people Dana had left in her life any more, and she needed to guard them with all the zeal of a mama bear protecting her cubs. ‘I’ll talk with you tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.’
Templeton nodded and said his goodbyes to Johnson. Dana smiled again as she watched him walked away. Still, had she’d known then just how far off the mark she’d been with her statement about being just fine, she never would’ve left the coroner’s office alone in the first place.
Then again, if hopes and wishes were loaves and fishes, she’d never go hungry again.
CHAPTER 16
Out in the lobby of the coroner’s office, Dana asked the woman seated behind the front desk where she might find Nancy Lawson, the human-resources person Johnson had said could compile a list of employees for her.
It was a long shot and it would take a ton of time and energy to run through background checks on all the workers at the coroner’s office – both past and present – but Dana hoped she could talk Templeton into getting some of his underlings at the Cleveland PD to do most of the legwork. And fast. Every last second counted here, and Dana was already hopelessly behind schedule as it was. Most investigative leads that didn’t turn into cold-case files were usually developed within forty-eight hours after a crime had been committed – something known to even the most casual of television viewers. And the stopwatch on that magic number had already expired two days ago. So, once again, just as had been the case during so many other investigations during her career, Dana found herself playing catch-up with her quarry. And the kicker about the whole thing was that she still didn’t have the foggiest clue in the world of who her quarry even was at this point.
‘You found her,’ the woman behind the desk said in response to Dana’s inquiry. Delicately pretty and somewhere in her mid-fifties, she wore small gold hoop earrings and a smart-looking blue blazer that matched perfectly with the soft colour of her eyes. ‘I’m Nancy Lawson. How may I help you?’
Dana flipped open her badge; feeling tragically underdressed in her leather bomber jacket. ‘I’m Dana Whitestone,’ she said. ‘I’m with the FBI. Dr Johnson said he’s going to ask you to put together a list of past and present employees for me, but I wanted to ask you about something else.’
Dana jerked her head up at a small camera mounted in a corner near the ceiling where two walls met. The camera had been trained on the front doors to capture on videotape everyone who entered and exited the building. A silent watcher completely incapable of lying. ‘How many of those things do you have around here?’ Dana asked.
Lawson turned and looked up at the camera. ‘Well, they’re all over the place,’ she said, turning back in her seat again to face Dana. ‘To tell you the truth, they sort of creep me out. I can’t help but feeling like
Big Brother is watching me all the time. George Orwell was right when he wrote that crazy book of his, wasn’t he? Uncle Sam, Big Brother – what’s the difference?’
‘Is there a camera in the autopsy room?’ Dana asked, wanting to speed along the conversation and avoid any unnecessary small talk. She didn’t want to seem rude, but neither did she want to waste any more time here. She was in a race against the clock and the clock was already kicking her ass in a big way. As she’d noted earlier, every last second counted in this case, so she couldn’t afford to waste even a single one of them. It might very well turn out to be the difference between someone’s continued life and their horribly painful death. ‘I didn’t notice a camera when I was in there,’ Dana went on.
Lawson nodded. ‘Yep. Actually, they just put a new camera in the autopsy room not too long ago, if memory serves. Some sort of improved version, I guess.’
Dana lifted her eyebrows. Bingo. Things were looking up for her already.
‘They did it over the Thanksgiving holiday,’ Lawson went on. ‘They’ve got the new camera hidden pretty well in there, though. I suppose they didn’t want the families to notice it when they come in to identify the bodies of their deceased relatives.’
Dana nodded. Made sense. God knew she wouldn’t have wanted to know her loved ones had been taped after death, either. Not to mention how much tape they must have used in her case, considering all the many loved ones she’d lost in her life. How many loved ones she’d lost recently.
‘So are all the autopsy procedures videotaped?’ Dana asked.
Lawson moved a pile of papers on her desk to one side and nodded. ‘Yep. Sure are. There was a big lawsuit brought a couple of years ago by a family that contended their grandfather’s body had been mistreated. Cost the city four million bucks by the time everything was said and done, so I guess the big-wigs downtown finally got the message and wanted to cover their asses.’
A nervous tingle rippled through Dana’s stomach. The thrill of the chase at work again. ‘Does Dr Johnson have access to the tapes?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to take a look at them. One in particular.’
Lawson rolled her eyes halfway around her face. ‘Heck, to tell you the truth, Agent Whitestone, I’d be surprised if that man even knows the camera is in there. Or even what a camera is, for that matter. He’s completely lost when it comes to technology. From the way he looks at a computer, you’d think he was still living back in 1963.’
Lawson paused. ‘Probably still is living back in 1963 – in his mind, at least.’
Dana slipped her FBI shield back into the inside pocket of her leather jacket and resisted the urge to scream. Once again, it looked as though Dr Phillip Johnson would be of absolutely no help at all to her on this one. Then again, what else was new? Johnson had never been any help to her. Quite the opposite, unfortunately.
Dana gritted her teeth and fought back the powerful wave of irritation in her chest. She couldn’t wait for the day a new, more competent ME took Johnson’s place. Catching murderers was hard enough without constantly being hamstrung by people like Johnson – people who were supposed to be on her side. ‘Who else has access to the tapes?’ Dana asked.
Lawson fiddled with one of her gold hoop earrings and slid her small pink tongue across her teeth. Dentures, Dana guessed. Nice ones, too. ‘Funny you should ask, Agent Whitestone. Believe it or not, I’ve actually got access to them. But they’re not actually tapes. Everything’s digitised these days. The fact I’ve got access to them creeps me out, too, but we’re so shorthanded around here that I was designated as the backup A/V person even though I barely know the difference between a USB port and a telephone wire myself.’ Lawson shook her head, looking annoyed. ‘No raise to go along with it though, of course.’
‘Who’s permission would you need in order to get me the video of Christian Manhoff’s autopsy?’ Dana asked.
Lawson glanced around the lobby. The place was mostly empty, save for a tired-looking janitor who was mopping up the tiled floor beneath a television set hanging in the corner that was tuned into a rerun of The Golden Girls but turned down too low to hear. Plastic yellow signs were tented all around the man to separate him from the rest of the lobby and to warn passers-by the floor was slippery – in English on one side and in Spanish on the other. Losing loved ones was a multi-lingual proposition, after all.
‘Theoretically, I’m supposed to talk to Dr Johnson before I release anything like that,’ Lawson said, ‘but he always acts so goddamn irritated whenever I ask him a question that I stopped doing that a long time ago. The videos are public record anyway since the taxpayers pay for them, so I’m not too worried about that. Do you know the date of the autopsy you’re looking for?’
More hope tickled Dana’s chest, but was swallowed up quickly by even more anger at the chief coroner. For all intents and purposes, autopsy probably wasn’t the right word to use for it. Dana highly doubted Johnson had taken more than five minutes to examine Christian Manhoff’s lifeless body, much less shown the initiative to actually cut him open to see what might be inside. As with everything else concerning the good doctor, it had been an open and shut case for him. The faster he was done with it, the better.
‘I’m not sure when the autopsy took place,’ Dana said. ‘In the past couple of days or so. Couldn’t you just type the name into the database?’
‘Sure I could,’ Lawson said. Leaning forward in her chair, she punched a few keys on the computer in front of her before looking back up at Dana again. ‘What’s the name again?
‘Christian Manhoff. M-A-N-H-O-F-F.’
Lawson pecked away at the keyboard some more. After a moment two, she looked back up at Dana and said, ‘You can come over here if you want. I don’t like watching these things very much. They make my skin crawl.’
Dana pressed her lips into a tight line and gave the woman a sympathetic look. She didn’t blame Lawson one little bit for her squeamishness. After all, who in their right mind would like watching videos filled with nothing but blood and guts and despair? With the obvious exception, of course, being the killers and other dregs of society out there who actually got off on watching such dreadful things.
Dana came around to Lawson’s side of the desk, bumping her hipbone painfully against the sharp edge of one corner in the process. ‘Not exactly must-see TV, huh?’ Dana asked, simultaneously wincing at the hot jolt of pain shooting through her hip.
Lawson shook her head and stood up, offering Dana the chair. ‘Whoa, careful there, honey. When you get to be my age, your hip will crack just like a bread stick if you’re not careful. And, no, it’s not must-see TV at all. Anyway, sit down, Agent Whitestone. I don’t know about you, but I have to sit about six inches away from the screen to see anything clearly any more. Old age is no fun, dear. If there’s any way you can avoid it, please do so. Just remember you heard it here first. I’d actually like to get some credit for my world-class brilliance one of these days.’
Lawson paused and sighed deeply. ‘Ah, what am I talking about? You’re still young and pretty so that’s something you don’t need to worry about for a very long time. Lucky girl.’
Lawson shook her head to chase away the thought and leaned down over Dana’s right shoulder, positioning the cursor over the ‘play’ button on the screen. ‘Just tap the trackpad once and you should be good to go,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll go grab a quick cup of coffee while you’re looking for what you need. Would you like some coffee, as well?’
Dana shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Miss Lawson. But are you sure you won’t get into any trouble for this? I could always come back later when you get the proper clearance – or when I get a search warrant. I’m not going to lie, though – this definitely saves me some time. It’s a huge help.’
Lawson waved a hand in the air and looked around the lobby again. ‘Hell, nobody ever comes in here,’ she said, almost underneath her breath. ‘Nobody who’d raise a stink about it, anyway. Besides, if we get caught I’ll just say
that you overpowered me and threatened to arrest me if I didn’t let you see the video. Sound like a plan to you?’
Dana smiled. ‘Yep. Thanks again for all your help, Miss Lawson. I really appreciate this.’
Nancy Lawson squeezed Dana’s shoulder. ‘No problem, sweetheart. After all, we girls need to stick together, right? Anyway, I’ll be back in just a minute or two, OK?’
‘OK.’
Lawson headed down the hall with her high heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor, and Dana waited until the sound had faded away before tapping the trackpad on the computer. Movement sprang to life at once on the screen.
From the look of the angle of the footage, the camera Lawson had told Dana about had been mounted to the north wall of the autopsy room, mostly hidden by a potted plant that Dana only now realised she’d subconsciously thought looked out of place amongst all the cold gray steel. In the footage, Dr Phillip Johnson stood over Christian Manhoff’s naked body, accompanied by a pathology assistant.
Dana grimaced at the image of the huge rawhide bone shoved halfway down the dead man’s throat. The idea itself was bad enough, but to actually see it up close and personal and in living colour really hammered home the point just how horrific Manhoff’s death must have been.
There was no audio on the video, but Dana could see that Johnson was talking by the way his assistant scribbled down notes on a clipboard.
Dana leaned in closer to the computer. Unbelievably, thirty seconds later Johnson actually left the room.
Dana cursed under her breath. Obviously, five minutes had been far too generous of an estimate as to how much time the head coroner had spent with Christian Manhoff’s lifeless body. More like five seconds.
Dana clamped her teeth together until the muscles in her jaw-line bulged against the skin, leaning in even closer to the computer screen and focusing on the pathology assistant.