Chapter 11

Beep. Beep. Beep.

One of these days, Dashiell told himself, he was going to throw the alarm clock right out the window. He pressed the button that turned off the alarm and stretched. He turned to get out of bed, careful to put his right foot down first, then his left. He headed to the bathroom and took a shower.

He looked at himself in the mirror, preparing to shave. As he often did, he considered letting his hair grow. It would be easier than shaving every day. Then he got over it and shaved.

He headed back into his bedroom and got dressed, putting on a shirt and tie. He was going to be dropping by a government office today, so he should look decent. He placed the blue bead on its leather thong over his neck, grabbed the acorn from the dish he had placed it in and dropped it in one pocket. He then took a clean handkerchief from his top dresser drawer, carefully tied a knot in it, and stuck it in his other pocket. Lastly, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the front door.

He walked over to the metro station, grabbing the first train that came. It happened to be a blue line train, which served his purposes just fine. He needed to be on the blue line anyway, so he might as well climb on board now. He took a seat and read through the Express.

The train ran above ground, past Reagan/National Airport, then dived underground to go pass beneath Crystal City, Pentagon City and the Pentagon itself. It surfaced again to stop at Arlington National Cemetery, before diving back beneath Roslyn and the Potomac River. Twenty minutes later, Dashiell was finished with the Express and the train was just pulling into the Stadium/Armory stop. He exited the train, using the same door he entered through, and headed up the escalators.

Dashiell was always uncomfortable in Southeast D.C. It was a dangerous part of D.C., and the area around the stadium was one of the worst neighborhoods. But sometimes, the job didn’t give him a choice.

It was a short walk to his destination, the D.C. Medical Examiner’s Office.

He walked in the front door and stopped at the desk. He showed his ID and his detective license, and indicated that he was there to check on one of the bodies.

The kid behind the counter told him to head back to autopsy. “Detective’s already here.”

Dashiell figured it must have been in connection to another case, so he was surprised when he opened the door and saw Regina.

“Morning Regina. What are you doing here?”

She turned around from the autopsy table, a mask over the lower half of her face. “I could ask you the same thing, Dash. I’m here for the case I caught yesterday. You?”

“I came in to see if there was anything interesting on the zookeeper’s body. I hit a dead end yesterday.”

The medical examiner looked up from his autopsy of the young woman on the table. “Grab a mask Detective, I’ll be over to speak with you momentarily.” He pointed to a table on the other end of the autopsy room.

Dashiell grabbed a mask, putting it on. He seriously doubted there’d be anything useful to be found here. Then again, one of the iron laws of forensic science was that two objects couldn’t interact without leaving traces on each other. And if the murder was spur of the moment, then there was a good chance some evidence would be left that could point Dashiell in the right direction.

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