Death in the Primrose Hotel – Chapter 3 cont’d..

When the skull was the only part of the skeleton remaining on the floor, she gently picked it up, a hand on each side of the skull holding it where the ears should have been. She lifted the skull to her eye level and stared at the third eye in the center of its forehead. In the church like quiet of the speakeasy, those of us standing around the ME heard a soft metallic thud as something fell from the skull and hit the dust covered floor.
“Well, lookie what we have here,” the ME drawled in her sweet as molasses Georgian accent that made Scarlett O’Hara sound like a Yankee from Boston. She moved the skull to her left arm tucking it in like a running back carrying a football racing down the field for a touchdown. With her now free right hand picked up what appeared to be a spent .45 caliber bullet from where it plopped on the floor half burying itself in the dust. The ME brought the mutilated bullet to her eye level, blew the dust away with a soft breath and examined it closely rotating it slowly between her fingers tips. A crimson shade of hot red polish decorated the nails
She dropped the spent bullet into the plastic evidence bag proffered by Tom Forsythe. He made the proper note on the bag and passed the bag back to a uniformed cop who slipped it into a brown envelope. The ME herself respectfully placed the skull into the body bag.
A morgue tech zipped the black plastic bag closed while the other morgue tech waited at one end of the bag. Each tech took hold of the reenforced handle at each end of the bag and lifted it and started towards the elevator. As they raised the bag from the dusty floor the bones rattled together and slid to the center of the bag sagging it into the letter “V.” The techs squeezed the now folded bag and themselves into the elevator and the machinery ground away screeching metal on metal, carrying them and the elevator up to room 607.

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