their unpleasant meeting Saturday afternoon. Apparently, at some point Monday, the families had decided they could accomplish nothing by waiting in D.C.
Mark called Todd and Zola with the news. They agreed to meet in Zola’s apartment in an hour. Ten minutes later, as Mark was sitting on his sofa in the dark, sipping a cup of coffee, his phone rang. It was Gordy’s father. Mark stared at it, and, out of sympathy, reluctantly took the call. He offered condolences and was running out of things to say when Mr. Tanner said, “Say, Mark, could you do us a favor?”
Instinctively, he almost said no, but couldn’t at that moment. “Well, sure.”
“Could you and Todd go to the morgue and identify the body. I just can’t make that drive over, not for something like this.”
Mark was stunned. Three days ago the families were blaming him for Gordy’s death, and now they were asking him to run the worst errand imaginable? When Mark didn’t respond, Mr. Tanner said, “We’re just too upset right now, Mark, and, well, you and Todd are right there. Please. I know it’s an awful thing to ask, but it would help us tremendously.”
Somehow, Mark forced himself to say, “Sure.”
—
THE BODY HAD been taken to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner which also housed the morgue. Todd parked on the street beside the modern glass building and they found the entrance. Detective Swayze met them in the lobby and thanked them for coming. He looked at Zola and said, “I really don’t think you need to see this.”
“I’m not going to. I’ll wait.”
“Good. There’s a waiting room over there,” he said, nodding, and Zola walked to it. Todd and Mark followed him down the stairs to a wide hallway. They stopped at a metal door beside a sign that read, “Body Storage.”
Swayze said, “It’s cold in there but this won’t take long.”
“How often do you do this?” Mark asked.
“Twice a week. The room holds two hundred. We never have a shortage of bodies here in the District.”
A lady in a white lab coat met them at the door and opened it. “Tanner, right?” she asked the detective.
“That’s right,” Swayze said. They stepped into a large, sterile cooler filled neatly with organized metal racks holding dozens of body bags, all navy blue, all zipped tightly from above the heads to below the feet. They turned a corner, passed more racks with more bodies, and abruptly stopped. A tag attached to a body bag gave the name “G. Tanner.?? Drowning.”
Mark glanced around and saw another tag. “Unknown. Gunshot.”
The lady took the zipper above the head and slowly pulled it down. She stopped at the chest and opened the bag. Gordy’s eyes were wide open, lifeless, as if he’d been screaming in horror as he hit the water. His skin was as white as new snow. By far the most gruesome feature was his tongue, thick and balled up and protruding grossly from his mouth. There were abrasions on his cheeks. His thick blond hair appeared to still be wet.
Mark leaned on the rack to steady himself. Todd mumbled, “Shit,” and bent over as if to throw up.
“Is this Gordon Tanner?” Swayze asked casually.
Mark nodded as Todd backed away.
The lady zipped him up again and picked up a small plastic bag. She said, “There were no shoes, socks, pants, or underwear. This is what’s left of his shirt. There’s nothing else.”
Swayze said, “That’s why we couldn’t do a positive ID. We figured it was him, but his wallet, keys, everything was missing. I’m sorry.”
Mark closed his eyes and said, “So am I.” For some reason, he touched the body bag around the ankles and gave it a pat. “So am I.”
They followed the lady out of Body Storage. In the hallway, Mark asked the detective, “So what happens now?”
“The family has done the paperwork. Their funeral home will come get him. He’ll be transported in a couple of hours.”
“Nothing else from us?”
“No. Thanks, and again I’m very
Mark called Todd and Zola with the news. They agreed to meet in Zola’s apartment in an hour. Ten minutes later, as Mark was sitting on his sofa in the dark, sipping a cup of coffee, his phone rang. It was Gordy’s father. Mark stared at it, and, out of sympathy, reluctantly took the call. He offered condolences and was running out of things to say when Mr. Tanner said, “Say, Mark, could you do us a favor?”
Instinctively, he almost said no, but couldn’t at that moment. “Well, sure.”
“Could you and Todd go to the morgue and identify the body. I just can’t make that drive over, not for something like this.”
Mark was stunned. Three days ago the families were blaming him for Gordy’s death, and now they were asking him to run the worst errand imaginable? When Mark didn’t respond, Mr. Tanner said, “We’re just too upset right now, Mark, and, well, you and Todd are right there. Please. I know it’s an awful thing to ask, but it would help us tremendously.”
Somehow, Mark forced himself to say, “Sure.”
—
THE BODY HAD been taken to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner which also housed the morgue. Todd parked on the street beside the modern glass building and they found the entrance. Detective Swayze met them in the lobby and thanked them for coming. He looked at Zola and said, “I really don’t think you need to see this.”
“I’m not going to. I’ll wait.”
“Good. There’s a waiting room over there,” he said, nodding, and Zola walked to it. Todd and Mark followed him down the stairs to a wide hallway. They stopped at a metal door beside a sign that read, “Body Storage.”
Swayze said, “It’s cold in there but this won’t take long.”
“How often do you do this?” Mark asked.
“Twice a week. The room holds two hundred. We never have a shortage of bodies here in the District.”
A lady in a white lab coat met them at the door and opened it. “Tanner, right?” she asked the detective.
“That’s right,” Swayze said. They stepped into a large, sterile cooler filled neatly with organized metal racks holding dozens of body bags, all navy blue, all zipped tightly from above the heads to below the feet. They turned a corner, passed more racks with more bodies, and abruptly stopped. A tag attached to a body bag gave the name “G. Tanner.?? Drowning.”
Mark glanced around and saw another tag. “Unknown. Gunshot.”
The lady took the zipper above the head and slowly pulled it down. She stopped at the chest and opened the bag. Gordy’s eyes were wide open, lifeless, as if he’d been screaming in horror as he hit the water. His skin was as white as new snow. By far the most gruesome feature was his tongue, thick and balled up and protruding grossly from his mouth. There were abrasions on his cheeks. His thick blond hair appeared to still be wet.
Mark leaned on the rack to steady himself. Todd mumbled, “Shit,” and bent over as if to throw up.
“Is this Gordon Tanner?” Swayze asked casually.
Mark nodded as Todd backed away.
The lady zipped him up again and picked up a small plastic bag. She said, “There were no shoes, socks, pants, or underwear. This is what’s left of his shirt. There’s nothing else.”
Swayze said, “That’s why we couldn’t do a positive ID. We figured it was him, but his wallet, keys, everything was missing. I’m sorry.”
Mark closed his eyes and said, “So am I.” For some reason, he touched the body bag around the ankles and gave it a pat. “So am I.”
They followed the lady out of Body Storage. In the hallway, Mark asked the detective, “So what happens now?”
“The family has done the paperwork. Their funeral home will come get him. He’ll be transported in a couple of hours.”
“Nothing else from us?”
“No. Thanks, and again I’m very
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