Bitter Sweets

always fascinating,” Jennifer had told Savannah once. “No matter how many you’ve done, each one is different. I love getting in there and seeing what I can find.”

    Savannah was infinitely glad there were people like Jennifer in the world. Medical examiners, morticians, and piano teachers-society needed them desperately. But Savannah had to admit that, whatever it took to do the job, she didn’t have it.

    Dr. Jennifer’s young assistant, a fellow named Mark, was peeling Earl’s face down from the top, revealing the bare skull with its perfectly round, black hole directly in the center of the forehead.

    “Have you got a mask?” Savannah asked, trying not to inhale, only exhale...a tricky maneuver.

    “Over there in the second drawer.” Jennifer pointed with a bloody surgical glove. “Help yourself.”

    Savannah hurried to the cupboard and pulled out a small blue dust mask.

    “Vicks?” she asked.

    “Top drawer,” Mark replied. He grinned and added, “Wimp.”

    “Up yours. Sideways.” Savannah smeared a huge dollop inside the mask, then put it on, snapping the elastic around the back of her head. Instantly, her eyes began to water, but it was worth the sacrifice. Although no amount of Vicks could cornpletely eliminate the stench, it cut it in half and kept her from gagging.

    “What have you found?” Savannah asked, joining them beside the stainless steel table. She hung back a bit, telling herself it was because she didn’t want to interfere with their work, but knowing it was because she-like all other healthy, living beings-had a natural and instinctive aversion to anything dead.

    “Interesting stuff,” Dr. Jennifer said, “huh, Mark?”

    “Yeah, fascinating.”

    Mark didn’t seem to relish his work. Savannah suspected the only reason he was an autopsy assistant was because it made him a popular guy at the local bars. He had an entire repertoire of morbid, corny jokes that resulted in him receiving more than his share of “stiff drinks on the house.

    “Like what?” Savannah asked.

    “For one, I’d say that Mr. Mallock recently lost a lot of weight... and probably not the healthy way. His skin is a little saggy for a male his age. He also has stretch marks there on the underside of his belly and his upper thighs.”

    “That’s what I understand, too,” Savannah said. “I’ve been told he was quite heavy not that long ago.”

    “Another thing ...” Dr. Liu looked pleased with herself. “He isn’t a natural redhead.”

    “I knew that one, too.”

    “Oh.” Jennifer hated to broadcast reruns. She much preferred to wow her audiences, rather than tell them something they already knew. “Okay, Miss Smartie Pants, I’ve got at least one thing that’s going to surprise you.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, let’s go over here to the microscope while Mark opens up the skull for me.”

    “Yes... let’s.” Savannah hated standing too close when the saw was buzzing. Flying bone chips made her nervous.

    As they walked away, Mark took a large, clear plastic bag and placed it over the head of the corpse. A few seconds later, the room reverberated with a noise that sounded like a chain saw cutting down an oak.

    Savannah didn’t look; the head was always the part that made her shoot stew if she wasn’t careful.

    “Over here,” Jennifer shouted above the din as she pointed to the microscope. “Take a look.”

    Savannah leaned over the scope, squinted, and wondered as always, what she was looking at. Things certainly appeared different when magnified a zillion times. Once, Jennifer had shown her a common cat flea, and that night Diamante and Cleopatra had both been double-dipped, like a couple of chocolate-covered ice-cream cones.

    “What is it?” she asked.

    “Tissue from Mr. Mallock’s wrists, near where the wire had been twisted. Just like the sample I showed you that I cut from his ex-wife.”

    Savannah looked again, not understanding the connection. This material looked very different. “But Lisa’s had those blue-black specks in it.”

    “That’s right. Inflammation cells. Mr. Mallock’s has none.”

    “What does that mean?”

    “It means the wires weren’t on him nearly as long. In fact, judging from the lack of swelling in the surrounding tissues, I’d say his wires were applied postmortem.”

    “Postmortem?”

    Jennifer smirked, well satisfied with Savannah’s degree of shock.

    “You got it.”

    “But why would someone