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It's around 8:30 & in a back alleyway, a woman stands before a locked door. She was dressed, started from the ground up: a pair of black Chuck Taylor All-Star high tops (They had little white skulls spray painted on to them). On her feet are argyle socks. Her pants are a well worn & ripped in places pair of blue jeans. She wore a greying black Hoodie. Slung over her right shoulder was her olive drag colored messenger bag. A few of her fingers had some rings on them. Her black nail polish was cracked & chipped in places (partly due to the fact she has the habit of chewing her fingernails).
She was fishing around her coat & pants' pockets for something. She wasn't finding it so she then started to check her bag. After searching all but two pockets, she found it: her ID card. It was also her key card.
She swiped it through the card reader, the machine lit up one of the two required lights which would signify entry. On a small screen a question appeared. She used the keypad to type in her answer, the other light lit up & their was the accompanying buzzing noise. She pulled open the door & entered the building.
She was Catherine Gillespie, night Morgue attendant & she was now heading down the stairs of a back stairwell in the Goth Haven City Hall. As she did, she pushed back the hood & shook out her raven hued hair a bit.
She was early to work, she didn't start until 10. But, she knew if she didn't catch the bus when she did she might be late & she doesn't like to be late. Catherine goes down the three flights of stairs & opens the door to the 3rd Subfloor, a floor devoted to one thing: Death. Well, actually two things: Death & Storage. On the floor is the Coroner's Office, the Morgue & a few dozen of the building's storage rooms.
The sound of her shoes make an echoey thump thump sound as she walked down the empty, marble laced hallway. A hallway which was devoid anything beyond a few framed pictures on the halls. She's thought if she was to change the art, would anyone notice?
As she walked down the hallway, her mind wonder around random thoughts. Nothing of all the real consequence. Those thoughts stop as she stops just before Doctor Jones', the Coroner, Office. She takes a deep breath & then walks past. As She does, she looks in the office & then lets out a sigh of relief: he's not working late tonight. Jones is an ok boss but he always smells weird. It's a mix of workplace odors, a bit too much after shave & the smell of his beloved curry on his breath. He also has a habit of staring at her chest which isn't all his fault since it is at his eye level. But, he could at least be a little less obvious about it. Plus, she still hasn't talked to him about her meeting with the unscheduled special guest a few weeks ago. She's not even sure he knows He was there, Jones hasn't said anything about it. So it might be out of sight, out of mind but she's not going to press the point.
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Catherine pushes open the large black plastic doors & enters the Morgue's waiting room. It was sparsely furnished: the beat up old couch, a couple of miss matched leather chair. The coffee table with it's massively out of date magazines laid out a top of it. In the corner, the room's one bit of green, a ficus, was looking a sad. It needed to be watered.
Catherine took off her bag & plopped down on to the couch. Over her & the couch, to her left was a framed poster about becoming an Organ donor. To the right an another framed poster, this was of Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly & Mayor J. Thomas Macklinberg, Kelly in his dress uniform & Macklinberg was dressed in a business suit. They were on the front steps of City Hall. Both were shaking hands & smiling. There was also some text on the poster but Catherine's not bothered to read it.
The room's halogen lighting flickered a bit & was humming a bit. Catherine has wanted to change it, it gave the place a sickly look to it. But she's been denied that option many times. Catherine saw, across the room, on the counter the Log book was still laid out & open. No one was in the small office that was behind the counter but she could see the evening Morgue attendant was working in the morgue via the Office's window. She leaned over the side of the couch, pulled out a book from bag, found her place & began to read. She was just getting to the good part of Wertham's argument.
It was over a hour before the Attendant noticed he had a visitor. He poked his head out the second set of double black plastic doors.
"Hey, Catherine!"
She looked up from her book & said. "Hey, Jack."
He pulled down on of his gloves to look at his watch & then said "Your early, but then you always are."
He laughed & she gave him a half smile.
"We get anyone new I should know about?" She asked as she closed the book.
"Yeah, actually. I'm just finishing up the paperwork on our latest guest." Jack said & then went back into the Morgue.
Catherine gathered up her stuff & followed him.
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There on the slab in the middle of the room, under a sheet, was a dead man. Catherine starts to lift up the sheet to look at the man. Jack stopped her by saying. "He's pretty beat up so I'm not sure your going to want to do that."
Catherine let go of the sheet & asked. "What happened to him?"
"I don't know. I don't know if anyone knows at the moment but the rumor is he had a run in with The Man with Glass Breasts."
Catherine raised one eyebrow & gave Jack a puzzled look. "The Who now?"
"yeah. I know. Weird name? But then most Mobsters all have weird monikers."
"Ok. But does he actually have have glass breasts?"
"No one knows." Jack said. He paused then continued on with a laugh. "Well, no one alive knows."
"But I bet he knows & his goons know." Catherine said matter a factly.
"Ah, Touché."
"So, do the police know where the mobster who may or may not have boobs made of silica is?"
"No. He's still at large."
"So, your going to leave me alone with a body that's probably wanted by a Mobster?"
"No." Jack said & paused. "It will be you, this John Doe & our other guests."
Jack motioned to the other coolers on the far wall.
"great." Catherine said flatly.
Jack finished up his last few things for the night left Catherine to take care of things until the Morning.
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Catherine stashed her stuff in the office & put on one of the Morgue's white lab coats. She clipped her badge to the left lapel & went to work: There was filing to be done! In fact there is always filing to be done. Nothing much every truly happens during the night shift. She just there to babysit the dead. Wednesdays' are almost always dead, no pun intended. Monday's are always busy, a bit to much partying on the weekend. Tonight was Thursday so Catherine is just finishing up some work she didn't get to last shift.
After that was a body check, making sure everyone who was there was to be there: They were. Next came her sitting in the office checking what was on TV at 2 a.m., as she did that Catherine lamented the lack of interesting Infomercials/intresting pitchpeople.
"Ron Popeil, where are you when we need you the most? I'd even take that weird looking Lloyd Bridges-esque Juicer guy!" She thought as she past by yet another channel where she could make millions via an Internet buy direct program by only following three quick & easy multi-part steps. She wasn't why that would make such a great christmas present.
After the tenth offer to join up with hot singles in her area by dialing a number that's free for the first five minute & then $2.95 each minute after that she heard something. Someone was pulling up to the loading dock. That normally meant one thing: Another guest wants to check into the Hotel Cadaver.
Catherine got up off her stool as she heard the garage door open. As she started to walk over to the large black plastic doors leading out to the loading dock, she stopped. Three men entered the Morgue. They didn't have a body (one did have a briefcase) & they didn't look like the type who'd be there at the Morgue at this time of night.
The man out in front was dressed in all white business suit, under that was a crimson dress shirt & a silver Ox skull medallion held his bolo tie together. On his feet were shiny black leather dress shoes. In his right hand was a wooden cane.
His long brunette hair was reseeding up top which gave him a high widow's peak. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had a full, almost walrus in looking mustache & beard. He wore a pair of silver sunglasses.
Behind him were two large men wearing matching black turtleneck & slacks. Each had a name printed across their chest in white lettering. "Tiny" was on the left, while "Bubbles" on the right. Tiny had short red hair & Bubbles messy black hair. Tiny had the aforementioned briefcase.
The man in white & red pushed down his sunglasses with his left index finger. He looked over the spectacles at Catherine & said. "I believe you have somebody that belongs to me."
She didn't like the way he smiled as he said that.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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