"I'm telling you for the last time," articulated Dr. Arilio with an icy, impatient glare, "Blunt force trauma, you know, a nasty car accident!"

"Do you have all the test results, back?" she replied, trying to remain calm while gagging on the terrible smell in the morgue. Did this man never hear of bleach and elbow grease?

Dr. Arilio felt his agitation level grinding higher with every passing moment and every asinine question. The night before had been spent tossing and turning, awakened way too many times fleeting memories of horrid nightmares. Such mental annoyances had not happened since he was a child. Dealing with this overly eager detective was not on his short list of tolerable activities for the day.

"No, all of the results will not be back anytime soon," he stated exasperatedly, "You know, as well as I do, that the lab is backed up, understaffed, and everything they do is being scrutinized." What could he say to make this irritant leave? He was in no mood to deal with her.

The detective asked to see the body again.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes, gritting his teeth and yanking open the cooler door. The sliding tray banged hard against its stops shifting the woman's body roughly.

She gazed at the body, exhaling sharply through her nose. "Could you please get a clean sheet to cover her with?" snapped the detective while pulling the stained sheet down from the victim's face. She was more than an accident victim in the detective's mind. Something felt fishy, but without evidence, she was hamstrung.

"I'll be back tonight at 7:30 with the husband," announced the detective, "He wants to see, so anything you can do to make her face look," she stuttered, "more presentable?"

"Fine," he spoke again, finding his irritation oddly waning as he spoke the word, despite the realization he was giving up part of his evening for this, "I'll be here."

To be continued...