After the Rain

by Philip Cox

  ‘How so?’ asked Craig.

  ‘You saved my life.’ Ben replied.

  ‘I did what?’ exclaimed Craig.

  ‘You saved my life, more or less.’ Ben replied calmly. ‘You remember when you called me at my flat?’

  ‘I remember,’ said Craig, ‘I remember I could smell you had had one or two drinks.’

  ‘More than one or two. Most of a bottle when you called. In fact I was just about to add a bottle of painkillers.’

  ‘Shit! What the hell for? Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘I live on my own. But I lived with a girlfriend for five years.’

  ‘And she was the reason...?’

  ‘Yeah. Like I said, we were together about five years, not married, just happily living together. Then just after Christmas, just out of the blue, she announced that she wasn’t happy and that our relationship had run out of steam. We went away for a weekend to see if we could improve things. When we got back, I got a text at work from her asking to meet me after work at a pub in the country we used to go to. We met, and she told me it was all over. Said she was going to stay with a girlfriend to start off with. Asked me to be out the following evening so she could move all her stuff out. Which she did.’

  ‘Are you going to have to sell the flat?’

  ‘No. It was always in my name only, fortunately. So were all the bank accounts too. Just as well.’

  ‘Shit.’ Craig said again. ‘Sorry to hear that. I had no idea. And that was why you were going to OD. You must have been really in a bad way.’

  ‘Oh I was. I was.’

  ‘Is that why you offered to come out here with me?’

  ‘I think so. It was on impulse. Plus the scotch. I think I needed – a project.’

  Craig laughed. ‘Is that what I am? A project?’

  ‘In a way. Basically it has helped me to move on.’

  ‘You were obviously really cut up. How do you feel about her now? You don’t seem upset now.’

  ‘How do you I feel about her now? Six months ago I felt I would spend the rest of my life with her. Now: I just think she’s a stupid cow.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve moved on.’ They both laughed quietly, and then sat in silence for a few moments.

  ‘What was the other question?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said you had two questions to ask me.’

  Ben sat back, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Er, no, it’s nothing important.’

  ‘Go on, what was it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter.’

  Craig sat up, nodding. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘You are what?’

  ‘You were trying to ask if I am gay.’

  Ben blushed a little. ‘Er, yes. Sorry. None of my business.’

  Craig waived his hand. ‘No problem. Yes, I am gay. That’s not a problem with you, is it?’

  ‘No, not for me. As long as we’re in separate rooms.’ laughed Ben.

  ‘No, you are quite safe. But you guessed correctly.’

  ‘How long have you…’

  ‘Have I known? About fifteen years. I came out, told my family and friends ten, eleven years ago.’

  ‘How did your family react?’

  ‘Quite well on the face of it. Both parents, and my sisters and Adam said I was still their son, or brother. Although I think Mum hoped at first it was just a passing phase and I would grow out of it, although I think the family suspected really.’

  ‘Why did you think that?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Well. I’ve got two older sisters. They both had boyfriends from about seventeen, and seemed to settle down, start families, you know. Adam, well, he had male friends, quite a few in fact, but they were a cross section: fat, thin, short, tall, some good looking, some not. And of course girlfriends, many girlfriends, from quite an early age.’

  ‘And you didn’t?’

  ‘I had one, when I was about fifteen, but it was very innocent – a bit of hand holding, pecks on the cheek, that sort of thing. Only lasted a few months. But like Adam, I had quite a few male friends, but where Adam’s circle of friends was quite diverse, mine were all pretty boys, as my father would put it. So, that sort of gave the game away. Like I say though, on the face of it they seem to have accepted it, though I suspect Mum still thinks it’s a bit dirty.’

  ‘What about boyfriends for you?’

  ‘I’ve had a few. Most of my relationships tend to be one night stands: some develop a bit, one lasted for a couple of months, but not what you’d call long term.’

  ‘Would you prefer a long term thing?’

  Craig shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess that would be nice. But in the same way that I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not going to get married and have those two point four children, I’ve come to accept that my chances of getting into what you would call a long term loving relationship are pretty low. Nature of the beast.’

  Ben sat back on the sofa. ‘What type of guy attracts you?’

  Craig laughed. ‘You mean what’s my type? I go for tallish types. I’m five ten, so generally taller than that; fairly sturdy, about the same age as me. That’s the physical side. Although I might meet someone nothing like that, but find him attractive. You can never tell. I don’t fancy you, by the way.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ laughed Ben. ‘Even though I fit that description?’

  ‘I never have.’ said Craig. ‘I think it’s because physically you’re fairly similar to Adam. Obviously I don’t fancy my own brother; that would be off the scale in the yuk factor. So maybe that’s why. Back to you now: what type of girls do you go for? What was your ex like?’

  ‘Not too tall…’

  ‘Something Freudian there...’

  ‘Maybe. Yeah, not too tall, not fussed about hair colour. Don’t normally fancy fat girls, not size

  zero either. But then again, I could meet someone who breaks all the rules. My ex was about five six, short dark hair, medium build. Whatever that means.’

  Craig yawned and stood up. ‘Well that’s enough truth or dare for me. I’m going to hit the sack.’

  He walked into his bedroom and Ben lay back on the sofa and put the TV on again. He was getting tired also, so didn’t plan on being long. He heard a phone ring: it was Craig’s; obviously Craig hadn’t heard it so Ben answered.

  Craig must have eventually heard it ringing; when he came out into the lounge he found Ben had switched off the TV, and was sitting up on the sofa holding his phone.

  ‘Who was that?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s Lieutenant Sanchez,’ Ben said. ‘They’ve found a body.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  GRIM FACED, BEN and Craig were making their way to the Davenport Medical Center, the location of the County Morgue. Ben was driving, and following the directions Lieutenant Sanchez had given, he once again had taken the road to the I-4 northbound, a few miles north on the Interstate, and then headed north still, along Highway 27. Sanchez had said the medical centre was three or four miles along the 27.

  The call from the Lieutenant had taken them by surprise. Having gotten quite involved in the conversation they were having about each other, this was the last thing they were expecting.

  ‘I’m sorry to call you so late,’ the Lieutenant had said. ‘But I promised I would let you know if anything came up.’

  ‘No, no, that’s okay,’ said Craig, having taken the phone from Ben.

  ‘The thing is,’ continued the Lieutenant, ‘we don’t know if this is your brother or not. We have pictures of your brother, but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But the face is too badly damaged to make identification clear, and there was no ID on the body. I need you to come to the county morgue to make the identification. Even if you can eliminate your brother. I am very sorry, Mr Williams. If you’d rather come down in the morning.’

  ‘No.’ Craig paused for a moment. ‘We’ll come now.’

  It was almost midnight as they drove up Highway 27; Ben could
see the illuminated sign for the medical centre on his left, and drove into the large parking lot. They parked a short walk from the main entrance. The hospital lobby was not dissimilar to the entrance to the police building, except much quieter, and it looked spotlessly clean. There was a faint smell of industrial cleaner in the air. A solitary nurse sat behind the reception desk. They could hear the muted sound of a TV coming from somewhere; it sounded like a ball game.

  Lieutenant Sanchez was waiting for them in the lobby. They easily recognized her from their meeting the other day, although tonight her hair was tied up and her trouser suit was navy blue.

  As soon as she saw them, she offered her hand. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr Williams – both of you. I appreciate it.’

  She indicated which way to go, and they walked down a white painted corridor. The corridor was deserted apart from two low leather chairs, a coffee table with fresh flowers, and an empty gurney. Ben could just make out the fresh smell of the Lieutenant’s perfume. He guessed she had either just come on duty or had recently freshened up. Ben approved. Any other time, he thought.

  ‘I must say first of all,’ Sanchez continued as they walked, ‘that there is no guarantee that this is your brother, but the age and build and hair colour match. We don’t have a DNA sample to match, as he was just reported as missing. However, there are thousands of young men who match the physical description in this part of the State alone.’

  ‘Where was he found?’ asked Craig. ‘And what was the cause of death?’

  ‘He was found partly buried in some wasteland not far from here. It adjoins a golf course and one of the golfers had to retrieve a ball, and stumbled across him. As far as we have been able to establish, death was caused by severe trauma to the head.’

  As they walked, Ben silently put his hand on Craig’s shoulder. At the end of the corridor, there were two sets of elevator doors and a large direction sign: upstairs for Urinalysis and Allergies & Asthma; go right for Prostate and Blood Pressure; go downstairs for Morgue.

  ‘It’s quicker to use the stairs,’ said the Lieutenant, again showing the way. They descended the stairway: on this basement floor, the walls were no longer clinical white, more a greyish shade, having seen better days. Ben guessed members of the public did not often see this part of the building.

  Ahead of them was a pair of doors, grey again, with frosted glass. A sign over the doorway read MORGUE. Before she opened the door, Sanchez stopped and turned to Craig. She spoke quietly.

  ‘I need to warn you first, Craig, that the body must have been lying there a few days before it was discovered. There is also some animal related damage.’

  Ben could hear Craig take a deep breath. He put his hand on Craig’s shoulder again. ‘You okay?’

  Craig nodded and swallowed. Sanchez glanced inquisitively at Ben, who nodded to her. Sanchez tightened her lips and led them in.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE FIRST THING that struck Ben on walking into the morgue was how the smell had changed from the subtle odour of cleaner to a stronger one of disinfectant.

  The morgue was precisely as Ben had expected, just like in the many US TV shows he had seen. It was a fairly open space, with three glass walled rooms to one side. In the centre there were three empty tables, where the post mortems were carried out, Ben guessed. On the far wall were twelve stainless steel drawer fronts, three rows of four. On the other side there was a row of wash basins, and two computer screens. There were two offices on this side too. One was shut up and in darkness; the other had its door open. A small desk lamp was on, and a man in blue scrubs was working at the desk. As soon as he saw the three of them, he stood up and walked to meet them.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ he addressed Sanchez.

  ‘Hey, Doc,’ Sanchez replied. ‘We’ve come to look at the John Doe.’

  ‘Sure,’ said the doctor. ‘This way.’ Seemingly avoiding eye contact with Ben and Craig, he led them over to the stainless steel drawers. He leaned down and pulled open one of the drawers in the bottom row. In the drawer was a black plastic form, clearly containing a body. Ben could hear Craig’s sharp intake of breath.

  ‘You ready?’ asked Sanchez.

  Craig nodded, and Ben put his hand round his shoulders again. Sanchez gave the doctor a quick nod of confirmation. The doctor leaned down again and unzipped the bag, exposing about two feet of the body inside.

  Ben and Craig both gasped when they saw the body inside. Sanchez remained silent.

  The head appeared swollen. The cheeks and chin were horribly disfigured, beaten to a pulp. The nose was broken and twisted. The neck and upper torso were almost black with dried congealed blood. The right eye was so swollen they could only see mounds of flesh. The left eye and the top left hand side of the head had almost gone. The body had no left temple, the eyeball had gone, and all that remained was part of an empty cavity. It looked as if lumps of flesh had been torn from the left cheek. There was some dark hair left on the scalp, but most of it had been torn away. There were some sharp incision marks, resembling teeth in the visible parts of the scalp.

  ‘I’m gonna throw up!’ Craig put his hand to his mouth. The doctor quickly picked up a stainless steel bowl from a table and passed it to him. Craig staggered over to the corner and vomited into the bowl.

  ‘You okay – Ben?’ Sanchez asked, and then threw Craig a concerned look.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ben said, also glancing over at Craig. ‘Fine, thanks. For now.’

  The doctor passed Craig a glass of water and a tissue. Craig emptied the glass, wiped his mouth, and returned to the drawer. The doctor put the tray on a table, covering it with a cloth.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Craig, blowing his nose.

  ‘No problem,’ Sanchez said. ‘Would you like to take a break, get some air and carry on later?’

  Craig shook his head. ‘No. Let’s get it over with.’

  Sanchez continued. ‘Okay then. I just need to ask you: do you recognize this body as that of your brother?’

  Craig looked again. ‘I –I can’t tell. The face is too badly damaged.’

  ‘No problem,’ said the Lieutenant. ‘In that case, are you happy to let us take a DNA sample – it’ll be a swab from your mouth – so we can match it or otherwise to him?’ She indicated to the body.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Very well. We can do that while we are here. We should get the result in 24 hours.’

  She indicated to the doctor who zipped the bag up and started to push the drawer shut, then led Ben and Craig to the door.

  ‘Wait, wait!’ said Craig suddenly, returning to the drawer. ‘Don’t close it yet.’

  The doctor hesitated, looking at Sanchez for guidance.

  ‘What is it, Craig?’ asked the Lieutenant.

  ‘The bag,’ Craig said, pointing to the half opened drawer. ‘Can you open the bag again, this time to the waist?’

  The doctor looked quizzically at Sanchez who shrugged her shoulders again. He pulled the drawer open again and unzipped the bag, this time to the man’s navel. The torso was covered in bruises, although the dried blood only reached down to the top of his chest. The dead man had been tall, well over six feet and the body had been muscular.

  Craig looked at the torso. ‘It’s not Adam!’ he shouted, grasping Ben’s arm and shaking it vigorously, ‘It’s not him!’

  ‘How do you know?’ Ben and Sanchez asked simultaneously.

  ‘The chest,’ Craig said breathlessly, ‘Adam’s got a scar here.’ His finger drew a line across his own collar bone.

  They all looked down at the body; there was no scar.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Sanchez. ‘Positive?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, I’m pleased for you,’ said the Lieutenant. ‘I’d still like to carry out that DNA test, if you don’t mind. Just for the record. You can close up now, doc.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind,’ Craig said excitedly, still grinning at Ben.
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br />   ‘We can do it in there.’ Sanchez led them into one of the side rooms while the doctor sealed up the bag and closed the drawer. In the room, Sanchez opened a small attaché case and got out what seemed like a large Q-tip. ‘I just need to swab your mouth,’ she said.

  Craig opened his mouth wide and allowed the Lieutenant to take her sample. She put the swab into a glass tube. ‘We should get a result by end of day tomorrow. Would just officially confirm what you said.’

  ‘Fine. But I just know it’s not him.’

  Sanchez nodded. ‘Sure. Come on, I’ll see you guys to the door. You must be exhausted by now.’

  She wished them goodnight and thanked them again for coming, and they returned to the car. Craig sat in the passenger seat again, leaned back, but said nothing. Ben looked over and could see a tear trickling down Craig’s cheek.

  ‘You okay, then?’ he asked.

  Craig wiped his cheek. ‘Sure. Okay, let’s get back.’

  ‘That scar,’ Ben said as they got back on the interstate. ‘I noticed the other day you’ve got one on your chest as well. I didn’t ask at the time.’

  ‘We both have. Three or four years back we were both out and basically got into a fight. Two of the other guys had knives, and both Adam and I got cut. Nothing too deep, flesh wounds, but the scars stayed. Tell you about it another time. When I’m more awake.’

  ‘Great.’ Ben carried on driving. Neither said a word for the rest of the journey. By the time they got back to the apartment Craig was asleep. Ben nudged him awake, and they both made their way across the grass indoors.

  ‘Are you going to tell your father?’ asked Ben as they got indoors.

  ‘No point. It wasn’t Adam,’ Craig shrugged.

  Craig staggered into his room and crashed onto the bed. Ben looked at his phone: it was now two-thirty and time he was in bed too.

  Craig was snoring loudly by the time Ben got into his room. He undressed down to his shorts and lay down on his bed. Half asleep, he reflected on the last five hours. Interesting, he thought. He came out here with Craig as something to do, not sure what had happened to Adam, but ninety-five percent sure he had just disappeared with a girl. Then, the events of the past few days had led him to believe there was more to it than that. Then, tonight, on their way to the hospital, he was convinced it was Adam they were going to view at the morgue, although he kept that thought to himself. And now…..