by Mary Bush
Val knew the case Betty was talking about. You could hardly miss the coverage, which had been on every news station. Several months ago, Jeanne Coleman had been found dead in her apartment, the victim of a savage attack. She had been stabbed repeatedly, and then dismembered. The killer photographed the victim throughout the murder and left the pictures behind so that cops, and everyone else, would know exactly what happened to her. Given the brutality, let alone advertisement of the crime, initial speculation focused on the possibility of a gang-related killing. Someone was sending a message. But nothing about Jeanne’s lifestyle fitted with this theory. The fact that she was murdered like that made little sense.
One of the oddest issues of the case was that she’d had her teeth removed and then placed on the bedroom pillow. The rest of the body parts were missing, and so far, none of the pieces had been recovered.
Well, not until now.
Now, murmurs of a serial killer spread across the headlines.
Betty finally glanced up and quickly put the phone down. “Can I help you?”
Val jumped to attention, her pulse quickening. “I’m here about the death investigator position. I have an interview today. I’m afraid I’m a little early, though,” she said, holding her head high, back straight. Then, leaned one elbow on Betty’s counter with as much careless confidence as she could work up.
“Interview? Today?” Betty checked her computer. After a few seconds she smiled, got up from the desk, and pushed a button on the wall. The large metal doors opened. “No kidding about being early—we weren’t expecting you until next week. Please come in.”
Val entered through the doors, confused, correcting Betty immediately. “Next week? No, my interview is today.”
“I wish they’d tell me when these things change. I’m always the last to know.” Betty made her way back to the computer and searched through the schedule again. “I don’t see you listed for today.” Her face focused on the screen. “Your original appointment for next week is still here.”
Val narrowed her eyes, still trying to comprehend what was going on. Did I get the day wrong?
“Oh well, I’m not surprised to see the scheduling mix-up. I was off sick and we had a temp in here last week. I’m still trying to fix things. I’ll call Dr. Blythe and see what I can do. Oliver spoke so highly of you that I know Dr. Blythe will be happy to meet with you today.” Betty picked up the phone. “This should only take a few minutes.”
Val felt her stomach nervously flip. She did call last week to inquire about the status of her application for the job, so that would explain the scheduling error by this incompetent temp. But who was the person who spoke so highly of her? She didn’t know any Oliver. She was so deep in thought she jumped when Betty spoke.
“So, I heard you met Oliver when he was in Rochester. He was such a great man. I can’t believe he’s gone. It just goes to show you never know when your time’s going to be up,” Betty said, dropping the phone down a little from her ear. “Anyway, with Oliver’s glowing recommendation, Dr. Blythe will be relieved to have you start. Things have just been so hectic around here.”
Met Oliver in Rochester? Glowing recommendation? Relieved to have me start?
Suddenly it all became painfully clear. Betty thought she was someone else. This job belonged to someone else. Her own interview was probably a courtesy interview to satisfy human resources and state hiring guidelines—in other words, a waste of time for anyone not promised a job internally or “on the side.”
In an instant, all hope disintegrated. Val became lost, overwhelmed by circumstances beyond her control. Her life was falling apart, the last bits shattering and falling in a chaotic heap as she stood in the front office of the county morgue. She was broke, and without the promise of a pay check soon, she was about to become homeless too.
Val didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. The room felt like it was swirling and she was about to fall over.
Betty just stared, her eyes wide. Then her expression seemed to turn sympathetic. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you knew Oliver had died.”
Betty’s voice sounded far away. Val managed to answer, confused. “Died?”
“It was an aneurism. He went so suddenly.”
Val felt outside of herself with no control over her own faculties, and then without realizing what she was doing, said, “So Oliver had good things to say about me?” As the words left her mouth, she couldn’t believe the outright lie she’d just told. But hopeless situations call for desperate behavior. Survival instinct forced her to focus.
Betty smiled and placed her hand on Val’s shoulder. “Yes, he said Gwen Carmondy was one of the best.”
The seconds ticked by as Val thought of what to do next. Desperation clung tightly, making the decision clear. What could be lost at this point other than dignity, and dignity wasn’t going to put food on the table or a roof over her head. Val was pretty sure the next lie she was about to tell wasn’t criminal. Besides, what was the worst they could do? Have security escort her out? If she was coming back to the morgue anytime soon it wouldn’t be under circumstances in which she’d have the capacity to really care about. “I think there might be some confusion. I’m Dr. Valentina Knight, a dentist. Oliver must have told both Gwen Carmondy and me about this job. Gwen is one of the best, but he thought I’d be better suited for this position.”
Val breathed hard as perspiration rolled down the back of her neck. Her face felt hot and she began to wonder if her lie was showing.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Oliver only mentioned one person,” Betty stammered, then suddenly turned her attention to the phone and Val took the opportunity to try to steady her breathing.
“Yes, Candace. Is Dr. Blythe available to speak to a Valentina Knight?” When Betty responded, she lowered her voice, clearly sounding uncomfortable speaking in front of Val. “She’s here about the death investigator position. It seems Oliver recommended her.” There was a longer pause.
“I know that. But apparently Oliver spoke to her about it too.” Betty’s voice became still as she listened. Clearly, there was more discussion going on the other end of the line. She finally said, “Okay, I’ll send her back.”
“Dr. Knight, please come with me. I’ll introduce you to Dr. DeHaviland.”
“Dr. DeHaviland? Didn’t you mention a Dr. Blythe?”
“Dr. Blythe is the chief medical examiner and is in the middle of an autopsy right now. Dr. DeHaviland, the deputy medical examiner, is just finishing up and can talk to you.”
Betty led Val down a long corridor and into an office, saying nothing as they walked. Val was thankful for the silence. She wasn’t quite sure how she would have responded to any questions. The only thought on her mind was keeping this house of cards from crashing down on her.
“Please have a seat. I’ll tell Dr. DeHaviland you’re here. She should be right in.”
Val sat in the chair, heart in her throat, wondering how on earth she would pull this off. She needed to stay calm or this would just go from bad to worse.
As she waited, she anxiously looked around the room, searching for anything she could use to start small talk with, anything she could use as a distraction if she got backed into any uncomfortable corners regarding this Oliver person. The only reason they let her in today was because of her supposed connection to him.
There were diplomas in thick wood frames on the wall. The largest one, above the desk, displayed a medical degree from the University of Michigan to a Julia DeHaviland. Across the room was another diploma, this one for a PhD in pathology from the same university.
The room was furnished in dark mahogany. Persian carpeting in shades of gold, blue and burgundy covered the floor, completing the effect of an inviting office. For all of the pleasing colors, there was only a thin veneer of warmth in the room. The rest gave off a sense of sterility. There were no pictures on the desk or on the bookcases. In fact, other than the degrees, nothing personal was in the room. It h
ad a feeling of remoteness, a distance at odds with the welcoming décor.
Val began to chew at her nails. There was nothing in this room, no photos of children, a significant other, nothing to help move a conversation away from the topic of Oliver if need be. Jesus Christ. Val’s heart pounded harder. I don’t even know what this man’s last name was. Or what in the hell his job was here.
Without realizing it, she bit down again, this time a little too much, and winced in pain. She pulled her hand back and checked to see if she was bleeding. When she did her eyes froze on her scar. Mr. Tate’s tooth marks were still engraved on her skin. He was the reason she would never practice dentistry again.
He had been her patient for only a couple of weeks when he was arrested in connection with the deaths of three young girls. One victim had bite marks on her breast. The local police asked if she could get a set of dental molds of his teeth so that they could be compared to the wound. Val agreed.
Mr. Tate was brought handcuffed and shackled to her dental office. He looked like he had been beaten. His right eye was swollen nearly shut and his lip was fat. Dark purple bruises covered his face. The cops left the room for only a minute to take a call. When they did, he pleaded with her to help him, confirming what she thought. The officers had used him as a punching bag. He said he was in terrible pain and thought his jaw was dislocated. Could she please check it for him?
She put on gloves and inspected the inside of his mouth. Three teeth were broken. The jagged edges must have been cutting his tongue, which had nasty lacerations near the tip. She had to put her entire thumb in his mouth to reach his jaw joint. Her index finger rested on his cheek and she began palpating the area for injury. After this point, it all became a blur, but she remembered the change in his eyes. He wasn’t pleading for help anymore. He was happy.
He bit down hard, the sharp teeth cutting through her latex glove and skin. She tried to pull her hand back and as she did, he clamped down harder, making a crunching sound.
She screamed in pain and the cops rushed in. The first one grabbed the suspect’s head, trying to pry open his jaws. The second began punching him in the face. But Mr. Tate fought back fiercely, his teeth still locked in her flesh. This was all she remembered. She passed out right after that. It was only later at the emergency room that she learned her mangled thumb was nearly torn apart.
A woman’s voice snapped Val to attention.
“Just get everything prepped and I’ll look at it later.” The woman stood in the doorway, talking to someone in the hall. There was an inaudible response.
“Take the X-rays. We have to wait for DNA anyway,” she answered, clearly irritated. After a second of silence she entered the room.
“How do you do. I’m Julia DeHaviland.” She was slightly taller than Val. Her brown hair extended just to her shoulders and thick bangs came down to the top of her glasses. Makeup might have helped to hide the worn, pale complexion of her skin, but she wore none.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Dr. DeHaviland.” Val stood and stretched out her hand.
“Call me Julia otherwise I’m going to have to call you Dr. Knight. I prefer to not be that formal.” She took Val’s hand, shaking it firmly, and then sat down at her desk. “I was told you are here about the death investigator position.”
“Yes, I am.”
Julia sorted through the papers in front of her, sighing as she moved them around. “Do you have a copy of your résumé with you? It looks like Betty didn’t give it to me. With the scheduling screw-up, I’m not surprised.”
“Of course, I have one right here.” Val reached into her bag, pulled out the requested document, and slid it across the desk. It seemed like conducting this interview was the last thing Julia wanted to be doing.
“Thanks.” Julia leaned forward, put both elbows firmly on the desk, and briefly read the lines. When she frowned and then narrowed her eyes, Val sensed there was a problem. She swallowed hard when Julia thumbed through it a second time.
“Betty tells me that you were a friend of Oliver’s, and that he sent you our way.” Elbows still rigidly positioned on the desk, her eyes fixed on Val’s.
“Yes,” Val replied simply. She felt her cheeks tighten and jaw clench. She said nothing further.
“I also hear he tried to get two of you to apply for this job. To be honest, I only knew about one. We have an ad posted too. Did you see it?”
Val smiled and shook her head, maintaining as much composure as she could. “No, Oliver told me about it.”
Julia appeared to be satisfied with the answer and continued with her next question, sitting back in the chair now. “So tell me, why does a dentist want to become a death investigator?”
“I’m looking for a change in careers, something new. Something where I can use the medical knowledge I’ve obtained.” Val exhaled in relief. Julia was more relaxed and it seemed like there weren’t going to be any more questions about this Oliver person. She leaned back herself, crossing her legs, adding casually, “To tell you the truth, I’ve always been fascinated with forensic science and would love to do something in this field.” The response came out with an air of credibility. Val knew she’d be asked why she wanted a change in careers and had learned, from previous experience at other interviews, not to admit that her injury was the reason.
People tended to act differently once they knew what happened. Oh, they were always kind at first, congratulating her on her courage. But Val would find them catching their words, apologizing at every turn, treating her like she was a victim. They also seemed skeptical that she would be a good employee. That maybe her injury was a little more serious, and the use of her hand was a lot less than she let on. Convinced that it had cost her several jobs over the last few months, she just couldn’t take any chances right now.
“I can understand that. From what I hear, dentistry can be routine,” Julia said.
“It is.” Val laughed, accentuating her light-hearted response, though dentistry was anything but routine.
Julia laughed too and added, “I was in private practice at one time, in medicine, though. It’s all the same. I know what you mean. Sometimes you’re just ready for a change.”
“What kind of medicine did you practice?” Val asked with interest.
Julia didn’t answer immediately. She shuffled papers again and then said quietly, “I was a surgeon.” She didn’t elaborate on what kind of surgery she did. Val sensed something was off and strategically changed the topic, talking again about how interesting forensics was and now how much she admired Julia’s position as a medical examiner.
Julia leaned forward, engaged in the conversation. Val began to grow comfortable as she spoke. She seemed to be winning Julia over and felt her chances of getting this job increasing.
“You know, as I look through your résumé, I just have one last thing to say,” Julia said as she closed the document. Julia smiled as she spoke and Val felt secure the job was hers.
“What’s that?” Val responded enthusiastically.
“You have no experience as a death investigator.” The statement was blunt and the smile vanished from Julia’s face.
“The ad didn’t say experience was required.” As soon as she said the words, Val wanted to retract them. A knot formed in her stomach and her chest constricted as she tried to correct the error.
“I have ten years’ experience as a dentist. I have a lot of medical training.” Her voice came out sounding guilty. Perspiration formed as the temperature in the room seemed to increase. She continued to ramble, digging the hole deeper with each word.
Julia sat back in the chair, crossed her arms, and frowned. Val couldn’t help but think that she was going to have her thrown out of this office. But as Val talked, Julia’s irritated expression changed, and now she had a quizzical look on her face.
Once the babbling stopped, Julia spoke. “Are you actually practicing dentistry?”
That question took Val by surprise. What does that have to do with
anything? It took a second before she answered, “In Florida, but not since I’ve come back to Buffalo.”
“That’s an awfully long time.”
“Like I said, I’m looking for a change in careers.”
“Yes, you did say that. What part of Florida were you in?”
“Clearwater,” Val said slowly, still not seeing the point.
“That’s a very nice area. I’ve been there many times. So, you must have licenses to practice in both New York and Florida?”
“I have one for Florida but haven’t gotten around to applying for New York yet,” Val lied. Her Florida license was expired. She couldn’t afford to renew it.
“You keep your Florida license current, but are now living in New York with no means to practice?” Julia seemed confused and Val didn’t know what to say. Julia’s question was valid.
“My Florida license is due for renewal soon. I think next month,” she continued to lie. Julia knew the truth about Oliver. This interview was over. Why else would there be all of this off-topic talk? Val didn’t feel like being interrogated on her dental license now. It was just too humiliating. She envisioned living on the street, her life over. Reality was hitting hard. Tears were starting. This job was her last hope and now all hope was gone.
She rose from the seat in an attempt to get out before the tears ran freely, but it was too late. They were already streaming down her cheeks. As Val wiped them with the back of her hand, Julia reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a tissue.
“Thank you for your time. It was very nice to meet you.” Val kept her head down and stretched her right hand to pick up her bag, reaching for the tissue with her left hand.
“What happened to your hand?” Julia asked.
Val didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. Her mouth opened, trying to form words, but nothing came out.
“I’m sorry I was digging around with the questions. But honestly, you could make more money one day in practice than in two weeks in this position. It’s not the kind of job people lie to get. There’s a reason why you want this, and it goes well beyond a desire to work with the dead.”