Cold Dark
Sid had a garage that could be a refuge. Table saw, work bench, but damn cold in the winter. Frost on the inside of the south windows when it got below 20 outside. But it was barely freezing out, so his coat and vest sufficed. Fingers got cold doing anything. He searched for something to fix.
He thought about better insulation for this place. But that’s a big rabbit hole. Sid didn’t think about just why he was out here, and they were all in there. But they were and he was. He just sometimes tried not to think.
And he didn’t think about that last coroner call just a couple weeks back. He had learned early in his medical training to do his best, then let it go. It was out of his hands.
But maybe he could make it warmer out here. Maybe a wood stove.
The call had come on a night like this evening, just as crisp, a bit after dinner. So, he left the family and went. It wasn’t far. As he approached the twirling red and blue lights told him he was close. It was a dismal part of Paradise. He and his young wife had lived over here back when it was fresh as he tried to get into medical school. Sid had pumped his old Schwinn one speed up over the hill and down, then up the steep slope to the university. He’d been young and could do it all. Soon they found a better place in a couple months. That had helped.
He parked the rusty HiLux and found someone to talk to.
“It seems there’s a domestic dispute in apartment 13.”
Sid rolled his eyes. Called to a scene with no dead body again? His eye roll circumnavigated to a direct glare at the sergeant. He didn’t have to say a thing.
“There was a gunshot. We think he has shot his wife and is now sitting in there with his gun.”
“So, you are talking to him?”
The sergeant looked down and might have bridled a bit, since Sid was not his boss. “No. We have just reviewed his 911 call and talked to the neighbors.”
Sid sighed. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
The sergeant sighed too. Sid appreciated his ability to collect himself and not swear. “We expect to have a dead body for you soon enough Doc. We’re doing our best here.” Sid liked him.
After some radio back and forth with lots of 20’s and 10’s, Sid asked if the sergeant had a name.
Darrel Emery is the suspect.
Sid drew in a deep breath.
He’d seen Darrel and Sheryl the week before in the clinic. She was getting bad fast. They were both in their late 70’s but her dementia was coming on strong, and Sid had tried to explain it to them, what to expect. Darrel was solid as an anvil. Explaining and sympathy needed to be relevant, like where to hit the hot steel. Maybe Sid hadn’t done his best.
“Can I go up and talk to him? I know him and his wife.”
Sergeant looks downward, figuring. “Not sure she’s still in there Doc. And we know he has a gun.”
“I get that. But I know him. Maybe he’ll put his gun down and let us in.”
The sergeant does some pondering as a SWAT armored guy walks up. He stands in full body Kevlar and rests his hand on the AR15. “We can get a good line of sight from that roof if you will authorize.”
Sergeant now looks like his head might explode. Sid has seen this so many times. In the ER, in the OR, in his own kitchen. He puts his hand on the short man’s shoulder. “Let me just go talk to him. You can get your snipers up there if you want, but I know this guy. He’s a good guy and he might have just shot his wife because she’s really sick.”
The sergeant looked up, much calmer now. “She is, or was?”
“Yeah, she has been showing signs of dementia, you know, Alzheimer’s, for a couple years now and Darrel hasn’t been taking it so good.”
So, Sid went up there.
The little love nest he and his wife had shared was over to the north, unit 9. It was a two bedroom, but they had only needed a bathroom and a kitchen and a place for their foam mattress on the floor. Those were the days. Not like now when he retreated to a cold garage. But two bedroom was what they could get, so they paid. The guy above typed on a table on the linoleum constantly. Sid remembered the rhythm.
“Darrel!’ He yelled as he approached the door of unit 13. “Darrel, this is Doctor Hawthorne. I want to talk with you!” He yelled so Darrel might hear inside. Sid knew they were all hollow core doors, and a bullet could easily pass through the door, the sheet rock walls, the single pane windows. It was like a sheet on the clothesline separated them.
“Doc, is that you?”
Sid paused now in front of the flimsy door. “Yeah, it’s me Darrel. There’s all kid of cops out here but they called me.” Because he was this man’s doctor? Hell no, but because there was expected to be a dead body and Sid was the coroner. Luck would have it.
“So, they tell me there was a gunshot. You got a weapon in there?”
Long pause. “Yeah Doc. I shot her. You told me she was going. I couldn’t bear it. Now I’m going to shoot myself.”
“Aw Darrel.” Was all Sid got out before he heard the shot. The SWAT guys rushed up in their heavy suits, thundering on the weak steps and the cantilever walkway. They pushed the door open, and Sid had his two dead bodies to be the coroner for.
And he went home.
There were clouds above, no stars. Maybe the kids were in bed now and his presence might be a little more welcome. Maybe not. He looked up. Sid just saw black, maybe a little light reflected back off the low shrouding clouds. He didn’t think of anything. His mind was blank as he walked across the street toward his house.
She was there in the window above the kitchen sink. Her dark curls bobbed like he remembered from their love nest as she scrubbed something.
But then a few weeks later, it’s the cold garage. And for some reason, no reason he can understand, he starts thinking he needs a handgun.
Cause of death: Gun Shot
Manner of Death: Suicide
Cause of Death: Gun Shot
Manner of Death: Homicide