9. A KIND OF AWAKENING

Something must be tried in order that the body in the mortuary be identified

“I was wondering,” murmured Inspector Wasp to his sergeant after one of his more risqué bouts of thought, “whether the fellow was some kind of worn out porn star whose brain has been melted to mush by too much of what he shouldn’t be doing over too many years.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, sir,” replied the sergeant honestly, “but what the kids told me made some kind of sense. You know what kids are like, and this pair are bright girls: they often see in straight lines when all we can do is try and look round corners that aren’t there.”

“Ruby … Reuben; Dolly, Styx’s wife… yet I do see what they mean, and it’s a closer call than anything the good expert can come up with.”

“I’ve been thinking,” said Stone a little nervously, “if there is something that connects the body in the morgue with our self-abusing dumb-wit, and I’ve got an idea. What if we took him along and asked him if he recognises the lady?”

“Just a minute, Stone, the man’s three sheets to the wind and doesn’t know his arse from, his elbow… And if he did recognise her, there’s no way he could tell us unless he’s a darned good actor who’s actually managed to get us and old Dingle fooled.”

“There’s such a thing as non-verbal communication,” sniffed Stone, “like a sudden unexpected noise or splutter, or a look in the eye...”

“I suppose we could try it,” muttered Wasp thoughtfully, “and I also want to go back to that mansion place and have another word with Professor Styx. It strikes me very odd that he’s got a doppelganger in the very town where he lives and doesn’t know it, and that his lovely lady wife has also got a look-alike, and that those two are persons of interest to us at the same moment in time.”

“One of them being dead,” agreed Stone. “It’s a bit more than odd if you asked me.”

“And now there’s the young girls’ theory. Ruby, Reuben, it makes more sense the longer it’s in my head. But we’ve been to his place and met the man. We even mentioned Mrs Redknickers who was currently on the slab, and he didn’t show any interest except for calling his wife and letting us look at her. And she was alive and well and apparently doing some ironing. On the surface they’ve got nothing to do with our little problems except the ironing was red underwear again, but I’ve got enough experience in this game to know that sometimes very little actually turns out to be what it seems to be.”

“If we don’t sort it out quickly the stiff’ll be carted off to be burned at the crem and there’ll be precious little left of her. Just another sad ending to an unknown life followed by a puff of smoke and the hereafter!” said the sergeant thoughtfully.

“All things, and that includes people, you and me and aunt Nellie, must end,” sighed Inspector Wasp, “and once you’ve shuffled off Shakespeare’s famous mortal coil it matters not one jot what happens to you, except maybe those left behind who might want to spend a few moments remembering what you did in life, and maybe even smile a little.”

“Or cry.”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“So what about introducing the dumb man to the lady’s body? Carefully, of course, sympathetically, ready to drag him off if it upsets him?”

“Go on then, I’ll go along with it as long as we have professor Dingle with us. I’ve asked him to pop in again, to see whether he can get anything out of, I don’t know what to call him, Ruby I suppose is better than most names we might choose, at a second try.”

“It should be interesting if not informative, sir,” nodded the sergeant.

And so they arranged the visit to the mortuary where Doctor Niven reluctantly arranged the well-covered remains of the lady from the canal in the viewing room, an intimate space almost as sombre as a religious chapel of rest.

Professor Dingle, though, was far from happy.

“This isn’t right,” he protested, “we know nothing about the man’s psychology, about what might cause him grief if he unexpectedly encounters it. And anyway, encountering dead bodies out of the blue might make anyone jumpy.”

“We have a problem in which the only real connection appears to be the colour of female underwear,” said Inspector Wasp. “The gentleman you failed to communicate with yesterday...”

“It can take time!” snapped Dingle, “the human mind is a delicate organ and best not shocked by unpleasant things like dead bodies! You must be aware that sometimes months can be involved when the client is badly disturbed!”

“We don’t have months, so I’ll put it to the man,” said Wasp, irritably. “I’ll tell him where we’re going to suggest we take him, and why, and if he shows any sign of refusing, be it verbal or any other way, we’ll scrap the idea. And, professor, you can be the judge.”

“I suppose so.” Professor Dingle, though, was still unhappy. “He won’t understand a word you say, so non-reaction can hardly be looked on as acceptance,” he added.

The man from the park, now being called Ruby, a name which made him sound more like a woman but all they could think of from the sounds he’d uttered the day before, made no sign that he understood what was going on. Inspector Wasp was careful to make sure he was explaining everything quite properly to the man, and why he was being taken to view a corpse, and he seemed oblivious to the meaning of anything said to him, his only comment being goo-goo when the Inspector’s voice ground to a halt, accompanied by a smile.

They arrived at the mortuary, a place both officers disliked because they both thought they could sense death when they entered its inconspicuous door. It was as if the air was permanently tainted by the bodies that had passed through it.

Doctor Niven was scowling as he led them to the viewing room, and when he opened the door they could see the canal woman, covered to her neck in a tastefully placed floral blanket, her face seeming to be at peace, her eyes closed and her hair neatly arranged and dry rather than ragged and wet.

“Don’t let him too close,” advised Doctor Niven, “and don’t forget my advice was against this!”

The man they called Ruby was ushered slowly in.

“This is the woman,” said Inspector Wasp to him, hoping that by some miracle the man would understand him. “Do you recognise her?”

And the man they called Ruby took one look at the body in the viewing room and shivered.

“Wait!” hissed Professor Pringle.

Then with a sudden movement Ruby leapt forwards, pulling himself past the officers until he was inches from the inert corpse.

“Dolly!” he shouted, “Dolly, oh Dolly, oh Dolly!”, and he leapt upon her cold remains, weeping.

© Peter Rogerson 19/09/19