Detective Alex Root walked towards the morgue’s entrance. The early morning drizzle did nothing to alter his calm mood. He took the key out from his pocket and unlocked the door. He waited for her, and when he heard her heels clack on the concrete ground behind him he pushed the door open. He stepped aside, still holding the door ajar, so she could enter first.
She looked around nervously but didn’t say anything; her light pink jersey had dots on the shoulders as the rain began to strengthen. Alex entered just behind her. He flicked the building’s light-switch on, closed the door, and made his way past her in the passageway to one of the block-shaped rooms. She asked a question as he led, but the words were indecipherable to him and he ignored them. He did catch a smell of her rosy perfume which tickled his nose.
He stopped in the entrance to one the rooms, and reached his arm in and flicked another light switch on. “Thanks for making it out so early.”
“Sure,” she said, pausing alongside him. “I just hope I can be of assistance, and that it’s over.”
The pale white light that shone down on in the cold, sparse room illuminated their destination. An occupied black body-bag lay on top of a stainless steel table in the room’s center. The smell of cleaning products hung in the air.
“You have been a great help,” Alex said. “Sorry, if it’s cold in here.”