C.: Well, I was given the day off due to a low census at The Kennel. I guess that I’ll read the rest of the intro to MURDER 8 now, since I have some time off.
INCEPTION
The instructor stopped at the eighth cadaver. “This man died of smoking. Since the Houston Police Department has ruled out the possibility that his death was caused by tobacco, tar, or nicotine, his death is a mystery. That is especially true since cardio-obstructive pulmonary disease and cancer were also ruled out as potential causes of death. In fact, the only possibility that I can think of for a thirty-year-old man to die from smoking would be to have inhaled an inert ingredient that he was allergic to.” The middle-aged clinical instructor paused for effect.
Everyone in his class knew this man’s views on smoking. It added up to one word: “Don’t.” It wasn’t surprising for a medical professional to hold this view of smoking. As Magruder listened to his older friend from his hometown teach his clinical students, though, he knew there was more to this story than just a warning against the long-term effects that smoking had on one’s body. Magruder was one of only two people in the world who knew how the man on the table had died. Magruder burst through the door just in time to stop Mr. James from expounding on his theory.
***
Mr. James paused, and Magruder followed him closely to obscure the view of the corpse Mr. James had chosen to ask about. All but the students in the front row had their view obstructed, but Magruder was too intent on his mission to notice that these students were staring intently at the corpse.
“Mr. Magruder, what can you tell me about this man?” Mr. James turned to the young cop and asked him a pointed question.
Magruder was more than a little perturbed. Why must Mr. James ask about this particular cadaver? Weren’t there other bodies in the morgue whose stories would be at least as relevant to the topic he was pursuing? Magruder decided that the only way to placate his friend was to put the matter to rest authoritatively. “This corpse is from an open case and is, therefore, not open to discussion, Mr. James. I’m sorry to have to do this, but if this conversation is pursued any further, I’ll need to ask you all to leave.” He turned, muttering under his breath, “Or kill you all,” as he exited the room.
Magruder remembered stories his friend from his hometown had shared with him. He was now sharing those stories with his clinical class to distract from the previous conversation, since he wanted to honor Magruder’s wish. Magruder was familiar with these stories, but he listened to them intently, anyway, to make sure that his friend didn’t reveal anything too damning.
These were stories from his career as both a hospice nurse and a nurse at a Texas correctional facility. He’d seen patients who were allergic to very unusual things, he said. One had declared that he was allergic to Benadryl. Since diphenhydramine—the main ingredient in the medication—was an antihistamine, it was highly unlikely that the patient would have been allergic to the active ingredient. Instead, it was more likely that he was allergic to the inert ingredients in this very useful and versatile drug. One poor lady, Mr. Jones shared, said that she was allergic to Ivory soap. This was a highly unusual and bothersome allergy, since Ivory soap was almost devoid of inert ingredients. Being allergic to pure soap would have put this poor lady (literally) in a class by herself.
Magruder knew it wasn’t an allergy that had killed the man in question, but he didn’t mind his friend leading his students down this path of reasoning. It would distract from the unrevealed truth that Magruder was desperately trying to protect.
After the clinical class was dismissed, a young female nursing student sought out and approached the detective. His interest was piqued, but he reiterated his stance. The student was persistent, and Jay liked her moxie. He tried very hard to change the subject, but she was insistent. She procured a future coffee date with the eligible young cop. It seemed she was intent on learning the truth about the cadaver in question.
Magruder obliged her request for a coffee date because he’d been infatuated with the nursing profession since he was a young child. He also recognized Alice Jones as the older daughter of the man who had trained him when he was a rookie with the Houston Police Department.
“Jay, can we get together over a cup of coffee and discuss whatever comes to mind?” Alice asked, innocently.
Alice had grown into quite a young lady, in Magruder’s opinion, and he knew that the strait-laced cop and his daughter were as close as any two family members could be. He suspected Alice had inherited her father’s trait of digging for the truth until it revealed itself. He was determined, though, to keep his secret at all costs, even though he was a lonely, lonely man.
Jay waited for Alice to put on her coat before bidding her farewell. He hesitated briefly, because his dating life hadn’t been ideal. His thick, wavy black hair, chiseled features, ripped muscles, and quick wit had garnered him many first dates, but few second ones. Some of his dates complained that he talked about himself too much, others that he was too distant and didn’t give enough details about himself for them to know his true nature. Consequently, his longest adult romantic relationship had lasted only three months. Nevertheless, Magruder decided to take his shot.
“Sure Alice, we can talk about anything you want, as long as it isn’t dead people. It was nice to see you again. And please tell your dad that Jay Magruder says ‘hi,’” Jay said, as he helped Alice put on her coat. Alice then left the room, leaving Jay Magruder alone with his thoughts.
***
The small man put his rifle and cell phone down. He was familiar with the story the detective was telling his daughter, but it wasn’t enough for him to find José Leal. He was glad, however, that he had “persuaded” the telephone technician to change clothes with him. Taylor didn’t want to bloody his own clothes, though, so he had swiftly sliced the carotid artery of the repairman before he could dress. Then he went into the parlor of the funeral home to fix the telephone line he had severed the day before, in anticipation of Alice Jones-Magruder’s funeral.
A new device, he said, would let the employees use the telephones as an intercom. It was the latest technology, and it wouldn’t raise the monthly rate the funeral home was paying the telephone company, according to the small man in the ill-fitting repairman’s uniform who had apparently been assigned to repair the funeral home’s telephone line.
Having studied the telephone technicians’s manual thoroughly, Taylor connected the Great Seal Bug he had implanted in the ceiling of the funeral home to the UHF antenna he installed on the roof and then spliced the wire he had severed the day before to avoid suspicion. Taylor said that connecting the two devices would allow the funeral home to use their phones as intercoms if the two devices were connected properly. That was true, but it also allowed Taylor to hear every conversation that was conducted in the funeral home’s main parlor.
The listening device was a handy way to keep an eye on the detective and his whole family, Taylor decided. He could gather information on the detective’s whole family, and “influence” him to tell Taylor where he could find the man who held the key to him controlling the two most powerful cartels in the Western Hemisphere. He could do this by making Magruder's family members disappear, one by one, when he knew their routines. Grieving people have a tendency to give too much information. Taylor then dialed the number of his cleaner on his cell phone. He was a fastidious person, and dead bodies make such a mess.
C.: Now, like Mark Joliet, I’ll never be able to sleep! I need to get the rest of this manuscript and see what happens next.