(What happens next?  If your up to speed, we continue below, but if this is your first time here, you’re dropping in on a crime novel in progress, and it wouldn’t sit well without knowing what’s transpired already.  So, if that is the case, please go back to the July 16th post in the Archives section, They Had the Right to Remain Silent (1), where the tale begins.  Each post is a quick read, you’ll be in the thick of the story in no time flat.  If you have to leave before catching up, the posts are numbered; you never lose your place.  And now, back to the squad room…)
They Had the Right to Remain Silent
Richard S. Jachimecki
Chapter ( xxx ) continues…
     “Doctor Newsome followed me in,” Berry said, examining the appearance of the two, “give me Mrs. Bradford’s phone number and address. I’ll pick her up.”
     “No need Captain, we can do it,” Becker offered.
     “Right now, you both look like shit,” Berry replied, “four days nonstop tends to have that effect. Have you gotten any sleep?”
      “Not much,” Terrance said, looking over toward Becker. His partner gave the impression he’d slept in his clothes. His Captain’s attire — dark suit, starched white shirt, silk tie and spit- shined shoes – was as crisp as the Marine ‘dress blues’ Berry donned while in the Corps.
      “I have nothing but the utmost respect for your dedication, gentlemen,” Berry said, glancing down and noticing the newspaper on Becker’s desk, with its splash back cover about the Marquis.
      “This case is already getting attention from all angles.”
     Becker handed Mrs. Bradford’s information to Berry.
     “All right, you two get to the lockers and clean up a bit. I’ll meet with you and the doctor for identification. If it’s positive, we’ll make a judgment call on questioning her right then, or later.”
     Berry picked up the newspaper, “You mind?”
     “All yours,” Becker said, as he and Terrance headed for the door.
     Berry walked to his office and tossed the NYC Bulletin on the top of his desk, then picked up the receiver, and dialed Mrs. Bradford’s home number.
Chapter ( xxxi )
     TERRANCE ALWAYS KEPT an extra set of clothing in his locker. Becker had a sport coat.
     “It’ll cover some wrinkles anyway,” he muttered, pulling out his kit then heading for the sinks. Terrance changed, then joined Becker to shave.
     “The Captain’s a good guy, doing that,” Terrance said.
     “Yeah,” Becker agreed, “I don’t envy him the trip.”
     “We’ll probably be the transport home,” Terrance reminded.
     They gave each other a quick look through the mirrors and finished shaving.
Chapter ( xxxii )
     ERIC PULLED THE LEVERED HANDLE DOWNWARD. The gasket made a gentle pop as its seal released and the Medical Examiner swung open the three- foot square door. The frigid breeze wafted across his face. He grabbed the thin steel tube just inside the opening with both hands and walked backward. The metal slab slid smoothly on the telescoping framework attached to its sides. Now fully extended, it rested horizontally in mid- air, four feet above the floor.
     Eric rolled a gurney parallel to the left side of the slab, pushed them together and locked the gurney wheels. He leaned over the gurney, grasping the edges of the sheet lying beneath the body and dragged it toward him, transferring the corpse.
     He drew back the sheet covering Bradford, examining the ragged black hole and exposed chest cavity. Something is odd, just doesn’t fit, he pondered, his mind hashing over the conundrum these unfamiliar patterns of damage presented; challenging his expertise.
     “I’ll figure you out,” he said, replacing the sheet over the body.
     He wheeled the gurney through Autopsy into an adjoining six- by- ten room. It was empty, walls and ceiling painted a glossy stark white, which intensified the overhead lighting. The dark green vinyl tile flooring squeaked with each of Eric’s steps. There was a window that ran across one of the long walls, allowing observation from the viewing room on the opposite side of the glass. Eric spread the black curtain along its top rod until the window was covered entirely. He then turned to the body and folded the sheet back to expose the victim’s face. He tucked the flaps under the shoulders, concealing any sign of the fatal wound.
     The tinny crackle of the intercom unit on the wall interrupted, “Doctor Newsome?”
     Recognizing the voice, Eric went to the unit and pressed the TALK button, “Yes Captain.”
     “We’re on our way down.”
     “I’m ready, just knock,” Eric replied.

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