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Authors: Fran Rizer
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I’ll need to get right back to work. Call me if you find out anything or if there’s any change.”
Don’t know how I knew it, but as I headed down the hall, I saw a doctor that I guessed was the orthopedic surgeon. Sure enough, he went in Maum’s door. I turned around and followed him.
An average-sized man with graying hair, he wore midnight blue dress pants and a powder blue shirt with a red and navy striped tie. He went directly to Rizzie and shook hands. I couldn’t hear what she said, but his answer was reassuring.
“Just don’t even think like that,” the doctor was telling Rizzie. “Of course, your grandmother’s hip will be repaired. Dr. Midlands corrects hip fractures in patients older than she is frequently. He did successful surgery on a ninety-five-year-old last week. I’ll be checking in on Mrs. Profit. She’ll have her surgery just as soon as possible. Meanwhile, we’ll be keeping her comfortable until the cardiologists regulate her heart beat.”
When he left, I asked Rizzie, “That wasn’t Dr. Midlands?”
“No, he’s one of Dr. Midlands’s associates. Go on to work so you can pick Tyrone up on time. I don’t like him hanging around after school.”
Almost to my car, the sheriff met me. “Were you waiting for me?” I asked. Should have known he wouldn’t leave without scheduling my statement.
“No, I had some other business in the hospital to take care of, but we do need to decide.” He grinned. “Your place or mine?”
“My place. I’ll put you on my work table,” I teased.
Wayne sees gruesome scenes as part of his position as sheriff, but like many others, the technical aspects of what Jessica Mitford called The American Way of Death and scenes from Six Feet Under creep him out. He’s not comfortable in my work room, and he flatly refuses to talk to Otis or Odell while they’re embalming someone. He claims he’s happy that autopsies for our area are performed in Charleston, so he doesn’t have to sit in on them like the law enforcement officers in books and TV.
“No kidding. I do need a statement,” he said.
“Well, I saw the body and called you. That’s all I know. Do you have any information about him yet? I guess he’s with the fair and not a local.” I wasn’t about to tell him that Patel had told me he didn’t think the dead man worked on the midway.
“We don’t have an ID. The man appears to be young, no more than early twenties, which would make sense if he’s a midway operator.”
“Why do you say, ‘if’? He was wearing a Midlands Midway windbreaker.”
“But nobody working at the fair can identify him. My men spent the morning over there showing his picture around, and no one recognizes him.”
“A lot of people look very different after death. I know because my job is to make them look like their relatives and friends think of them. Sometimes there doesn’t seem to be much resemblance between the person when alive and the dead body.” I looked at my watch again.
“I’ve got to get over to Middleton’s. You can come and get the statement while I work if you like. Otherwise, I’m afraid that if I have to go to the station, it’s probably going to be tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, “I’ll get back to you.”
I watched him swagger away and wondered, not for the first time, why I’d never had a crush on him. Must have been that brother thing from having him hang around with John while I grew up. Good grief! There were a dozen more important things for me to be thinking about than who I did or did not have a crush on. Maybe it was because the man I’d been seeing had pulled that old business of getting me used to having him around and then stopped calling, but more likely it was because last night’s dancing and hugging had stirred up my hormones.
Dalmation! A hundred and one dalmations!
6
Miss Nina Gorman awaited me at Middleton’s. Covered neatly with a clean, white sheet, she lay on the
Don’t know how I knew it, but as I headed down the hall, I saw a doctor that I guessed was the orthopedic surgeon. Sure enough, he went in Maum’s door. I turned around and followed him.
An average-sized man with graying hair, he wore midnight blue dress pants and a powder blue shirt with a red and navy striped tie. He went directly to Rizzie and shook hands. I couldn’t hear what she said, but his answer was reassuring.
“Just don’t even think like that,” the doctor was telling Rizzie. “Of course, your grandmother’s hip will be repaired. Dr. Midlands corrects hip fractures in patients older than she is frequently. He did successful surgery on a ninety-five-year-old last week. I’ll be checking in on Mrs. Profit. She’ll have her surgery just as soon as possible. Meanwhile, we’ll be keeping her comfortable until the cardiologists regulate her heart beat.”
When he left, I asked Rizzie, “That wasn’t Dr. Midlands?”
“No, he’s one of Dr. Midlands’s associates. Go on to work so you can pick Tyrone up on time. I don’t like him hanging around after school.”
Almost to my car, the sheriff met me. “Were you waiting for me?” I asked. Should have known he wouldn’t leave without scheduling my statement.
“No, I had some other business in the hospital to take care of, but we do need to decide.” He grinned. “Your place or mine?”
“My place. I’ll put you on my work table,” I teased.
Wayne sees gruesome scenes as part of his position as sheriff, but like many others, the technical aspects of what Jessica Mitford called The American Way of Death and scenes from Six Feet Under creep him out. He’s not comfortable in my work room, and he flatly refuses to talk to Otis or Odell while they’re embalming someone. He claims he’s happy that autopsies for our area are performed in Charleston, so he doesn’t have to sit in on them like the law enforcement officers in books and TV.
“No kidding. I do need a statement,” he said.
“Well, I saw the body and called you. That’s all I know. Do you have any information about him yet? I guess he’s with the fair and not a local.” I wasn’t about to tell him that Patel had told me he didn’t think the dead man worked on the midway.
“We don’t have an ID. The man appears to be young, no more than early twenties, which would make sense if he’s a midway operator.”
“Why do you say, ‘if’? He was wearing a Midlands Midway windbreaker.”
“But nobody working at the fair can identify him. My men spent the morning over there showing his picture around, and no one recognizes him.”
“A lot of people look very different after death. I know because my job is to make them look like their relatives and friends think of them. Sometimes there doesn’t seem to be much resemblance between the person when alive and the dead body.” I looked at my watch again.
“I’ve got to get over to Middleton’s. You can come and get the statement while I work if you like. Otherwise, I’m afraid that if I have to go to the station, it’s probably going to be tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, “I’ll get back to you.”
I watched him swagger away and wondered, not for the first time, why I’d never had a crush on him. Must have been that brother thing from having him hang around with John while I grew up. Good grief! There were a dozen more important things for me to be thinking about than who I did or did not have a crush on. Maybe it was because the man I’d been seeing had pulled that old business of getting me used to having him around and then stopped calling, but more likely it was because last night’s dancing and hugging had stirred up my hormones.
Dalmation! A hundred and one dalmations!
6
Miss Nina Gorman awaited me at Middleton’s. Covered neatly with a clean, white sheet, she lay on the
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