Pigeon Blood
CHAPTER TWELVE: Lab Case Number 21: Pigeon Blood
It was almost impossible for Blair to do anything with all of these well-intentioned citizens standing around. Besides Cynthia’s parents, the DeMarios, and Vanessa, he couldn’t imagine anyone else in attendance being the slightest bit interested in talking about how much Cynthia had meant to them.
Blair decided to move with the flow of people out of the room, but he waited until backs were turned and minds were preoccupied with other follies before breaking away from the crowd and slipping inside the men’s room. When he was sure that the hall had cleared, he peeked out of the door. Voices still could be heard off in the distance, but he couldn’t see anybody.
As he left the bathroom, he let the door fall back quietly. Then he tiptoed down to the parlor where Cynthia’s body was and looked inside. The room was empty. Even the director was gone; he must’ve been with the family. Glancing around to make sure that no one had come back in after him, Blair walked up to the casket and unrolled the dental instruments he had stashed under his jacket.
After he laid the tools out across Cynthia’s chest, he pried her lips apart and used the wire cutters to clip the metal holding her jaw closed. What remained of the rigor mortis was a bitch; he had to push down hard to get her mouth to open. Once he’d accomplished that, he grabbed a spoon excavator and a mouth mirror and leaned over from the head of the casket. Then he got right to work.
Just as Cynthia had said, there was a temporary restoration in tooth number thirty, the lower right first molar. Blair spooned out the temporary restorative material, letting the shavings drop back into her throat. It wasn’t clear if his hands were shaking from lack of booze or from the adrenalin rush. As he used his fingers to depress the jaw, the dim lighting along with the shadows from his hands made it hard to see. He could only keep digging and hope for the best.
Without a high-speed handpiece, removing the cavit G seemed to take forever. But he kept at it until he happened upon a piece of cotton. Scooping it out with a spoon excavator, he found it moist and bloody; the prepared tooth had been a vital one. The pulp chamber, which had housed the blood vessels and nerves of the tooth, had still been living tissue when it had been removed. Letting the cotton pledget drop into her mouth, he bent down low and examined the tooth as closely as he could in the light. Something else was packed inside the molar. It looked like a small piece of paper. Tossing the excavator onto the red felt carry pack, he grabbed a set of college pliers. With them, he tried to remove the paper without tearing it.
The room was hot and stuffy, and his mouth felt cottony dry. A drop of perspiration fell against Cynthia’s cheek, smearing her face powder. Finally, he managed to lift the paper out of the tooth without ripping it, which was a wonder since it was wet and fragile from formaldehyde and blood. At the same time he sliced open the side of his hand against one of the cut ends of the wire in her mouth. It was a bad scratch and nothing more, but it hurt like crazy.
Blair dropped the piece of paper into his pocket and tried to force Cynthia’s mouth closed again. No matter what he did, he couldn’t close it as tightly as it had been before. When he brushed the stray cavit G shavings aside, they got lost against the gray and white lining of the casket. He heard footsteps coming down the outside corridor, so he put the college pliers on top of the felt holder and wrapped them up quickly, stuffing them back in his jacket.
“Sacrilege!” the funeral director said as he walked into the room. He breezed past Blair and examined the body. “Her mouth has dropped open! How is that possible?”
“Maybe you forgot to take the price tag off the casket,” Blair retorted. “I know seeing that would make my mouth drop.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A three-hundred-percent markup is standard practice for you guys, right?”
It was the director’s turn to have his mouth drop down to his chin.
After that uneasy confrontation, Blair walked the three miles to Saint Mark’s Mortuary because he was curious to see who would show up for Kevin Massey’s send-off. Also, the folded piece of paper he had taken from Cynthia’s tooth was so wet and so easy to tear, that he left it in his pocket to dry before trying to open it up. Going to Kevin’s wake gave him something to do while he waited.
The first thing Blair noticed when he stepped through the door was the fresh smell of wood and varnish in the rooms: stained wood wainscoting on the lower half of the walls, solid oak floors, and pews made of mahogany. It was a beautiful room, so pure and earthy. Blair wouldn’t have minded sending off from a place like this.
Kevin certainly had a lot of friends, making it easy for Blair to blend in with the large crowd. Almost everyone there was about Kevin’s age, late teens to early twenties. Besides his mother and a couple of aunts, uncles, and cousins, no other family members were there. Kevin must’ve been an only child.
Viewing Kevin’s body was quite a sight. There he was, all laid out in a dark blue wool, three-button, frock-coat suit. It had to be a Gianni Versace design. His shirt and tie were a matching beige silk. Even his dark leather shoes were Versace. Blair wondered how the kid could afford clothes like that. The only logical conclusion was that his mother had money and plenty of it. And she seemed generous, allowing her son to check out of this world and into the next in topnotch elegance. What a ride for the young working stiff—finally making it into top-of-the-line menswear only to find himself dead in it.
Calvin Maxwell stepped out from what appeared to be the director’s office, so Blair quickly turned his back to him. After making his way through the crowd, Calvin took Kevin’s mother by the arm. Talking to her with a profound sincerity on his face, Blair was deeply touched to find that his friend had the courage to comfort others during such a difficult time in his own life. Perhaps he felt a kinship with this woman because they’d both lost their children on the same day. Just his being there was a powerfully kind gesture.
Blair made his way to the door and then stepped out onto the porch. After pausing to take in a deep breath, he trotted down the steps and then walked to the end of the driveway. Just as he reached the shrubs lining the road, it surprised him to see Calvin Maxwell come out of the mortuary with Kevin’s mother. Blair ducked down behind the bushes so that he wouldn’t be seen. He had to smile; it was like Cal Maxwell to take strangers aside to comfort those just as bereaved as he.
“Thanks for coming, Calvin,” the woman in the black, cotton dress said as he caressed her arms and shoulders. A veil covered her face, but Blair could see that she was a pretty woman, so shapely and petite, and carried herself extremely well. Her good breeding and well-practiced skills in the social graces reminded Blair so much of Corinne.
“You know I’d be here,” Calvin said, glancing at the front door and looking quite distressed. Taking her by the hand and leading her over to the side of the building, they began talking together but were too far away for Blair to hear what was being said.
Calvin’s face looked above and beyond remorse and regret. He took the woman into his arms and held her tight. Perhaps he was holding her a little too tight, but who was Blair to say? Misery loved company, and Calvin seemed to be loving this woman’s company a lot.
Calvin lifted the veil covering her lovely face and then kissed her right on the lips. And it wasn’t just a friendly, you-take-care-now kind of a kiss. It was the kind of kiss which had a deeper meaning. Two pairs of lips melting together as if they’d been together many, many times before. Calvin’s indiscretion, no matter how born from grief, was inexcusable. And seeing those two so close to one another after believing for years that Cal Maxwell was the most faithful man on the planet, well, Blair was just heartbroken by the discovery.
The woman put her head against Cal’s shoulder and he caressed her back. Eventually she pulled away from him, but he managed to kiss her again before letting her go. She went back to the porch, turned to look at him, and then lowered her veil and went inside. Calvin rested both of his hands against the side of the build
ing and bowed his head.
Blair turned away from Calvin and sat down beside the bushes. He just couldn’t believe that Calvin knew Kevin’s mother well enough to kiss her like that. Witnessing his infidelity was like being betrayed by his own father.
A car door closing prompted Blair to look up. Calvin had just gotten inside his black BMW and started the engine. He hesitated, staring at the warm, yellow light coming from inside Saint Mark’s, and then pulled out of the lot.
Remembering the piece of paper he’d removed from Cynthia’s tooth earlier, Blair slipped it carefully out of his pocket. He was happy to see that it had dried and therefore wasn’t capable of tearing quite so easily. Putting it down on one of his legs, he used college pliers to open it, a pair in each hand. After it was open, he raised the paper enough to catch some of the light from the street. It read, “Lab Case Number 21: Pigeon Blood.”