Chapter
Eighteen
Los Angeles County Department
of Medical Examiner…December 7, 9:00am
A somber faced gentleman stared through the thick glass
into the morgue’s viewing room. The curtain had just been drawn automatically
revealing an empty sterile looking brightly lit area. A white linen sheet draped
a stainless-steel gurney situated in the center of the room. Underneath an eerily
still figure lay motionless, the sheet outlining the contour of his son’s corpse.
Still yet to be confirmed but the staring man had little doubt. The thick glass
and the heavily insulated walls prevented the scent of formaldehyde from
permeating beyond the viewing room into the parlor where family prepared
themselves for the tragic reveal. That was a blessing for grieving families
going through the confirmation process like this one.
An attendant studied the gentleman from the doorway behind
him, being ever so quiet as to avoid interrupting the private moment. He noted
that the gentleman’s posture was not stiff like a statue and not relaxed by any
means either. It was if he were looking at a blank page. The somber gentleman was
white, stood around six foot two with his hands clasped in front of him at the
waist. He was neatly dressed in business casual attire, dark slacks, and a grey
tweed sport coat over a white button-down shirt san a tie open at the collar. The
attendant speculated that his appearance suggested an academic, perhaps a
professor of history or political science. Or maybe a medical professional of
some sort, a doctor perhaps or a scientist. To the attendant’s mind the gentleman’s
demeanor suggested the former as he was calm almost to the point being unnerving,
given the circumstance.
The room was dimly lit by twin lamps setting upon two small
table placed on either side of the door leading from the office area. The
intent being to create a peaceful setting to lessen the shock of the moment
versus subjecting the family to a glaring clinical experience that smacked more
of a police line-up.
The attendant moved into the
room slowly and approached the gentleman at the window. As he got closer, he
could see a faint reflection of the man in the window. He was clean shaven and
wore round wire rimmed spectacles. That sort of confirmed the attendant’s
assumption that the man fit the mold of an academic. He paused a moment then
spoke in a soft tone, “Are you ready, sir?” asked the attendant
There was not an immediate
reply. The attendant paused a moment before repeating the question. Moments
like these required tact and the attendant was experienced in dealing with the
correct protocol. He waited another moment and then asked again, “Mr. Whembly
are you ready to proceed?”
“Doctor Whembly,” the man replied without turning to face the
attendant.
“Please forgive me, Doctor Whembly.”
“Thank you. Yes, I am ready,
let’s get on with it,” the doctor replied, nodding his head slightly.
“Very well, please excuse me
while I signal the orderly on the other side of the glass.”
The attendant stepped forward and
stood beside Doctor Whembly and gently tapped on the window. Inside an orderly
moved to the gurney and slowly pulled the sheet down away from the lifeless
face and rested it on the young man’s chest. He stepped back and waited for the
signal to replace the sheet and transfer the gurney back to the morgue.
Doctor Whembly remained still
and silent, his posture unchanged, his face revealing no emotional reaction
whatsoever. The attendant waited a few uncomfortable moments before speaking. “Is
this your son Doctor Whembly?” he asked softly.
“It is, that is Alex,” he
replied with just a hint of sorrow imagined the attendant.
“If you would like a few
moments with him privately that can be arranged”
The doctor sighed slightly, “Thank
you, kind of you to offer, but that will not be necessary.”
He turned suddenly and walked
past the attendant towards the exit. “I’m sure there are papers to sign and arrangements
to be made,” he said without looking back.
The attendant scurried to
catch up, caught off guard by the doctor’s abruptness.
“Yes of course. Shall we
return to my office and discuss next steps?”
The attendant quickly sidestepped
the doctor to lead the way to his office. “Right this way sir.”
“Splendid,” said Doctor
Whembly following close behind.
The attendant opened the door
to his office and politely let the doctor enter first. Funny he thought, it was
only now when the doctor said splendid
did he pick up the faint accent of an Irishman. He offered one of two plush
leather chairs in front of his desk to the doctor, then scurried around to be
seated across from him. He picked up a couple of manila folders, green folders
oddly enough and started to explain in great detail the next steps of the
process prior to the release of his son’s remains. Doctor Whembly stared at the
man half listening. His mind was elsewhere. He was considering his son Alex.
Alexander Whembly, the little fool he thought disdainfully. He had such plans
for him, a brilliant future carefully constructed from the time he was born.
And the ingrate pissed it all away for the love of a penniless tart and her
whelp of a child. He could see this coming, ever since Alex began attending
that abomination of a pious society called the Catholic Church. His mind poisoned
by the teachings of flimflam artists in colorful robes. Science was Richard Whembly’s
religion, and he had twenty-five years raising his only son in it. Only to lose
him to a charismatic priest who fancied himself an artist of importance
creating films that challenged the social conscience of the young and the
elderly. He was fuming now in his silent reflection, his mind racing with wicked
thoughts of next steps that had nothing to do with what this lout was
blathering on about in the seat across from him. His expression must of changed
somewhat as the attendant paused his dissertation.
“Have I said something wrong
Doctor Whembly?” he asked nervously.
The doctor composed himself
immediately and focused on the task at hand.
“No of course not, I was just
thinking of a matter that needs my attention when we finish her. Please continue.”
“Good. Alright then as I was saying…”
Richard Whembly was listening more
closely now, mindful that his mood was betraying him. He stuffed his rage into
a dark recess within his heart where his mind could retrieve later to formulate
his revenge. He wasn’t through with the priest or the church. Not by a
longshot. The real suffering was yet to come.
The attendant slid one of the green folders across the
desk, opened to a document requiring Doctor Whembly to review and sign. The
doctor leaned forward slightly and accepted the fountain pen that was offered.
The attendant studied him as he read looked the document over and then
methodically applied his signature, neat and clear. He slid the folder back
across the desk to the attendant whom he addressed by name for the first time.
Standing he extended his hand, “Thank you very much Mr. Tolliver, I appreciate
your professionalism and care with which you have extended poor Alex. He was a
good man you know,” said Doctor Whembly. Mr. Tolliver took the doctor’s hand
and gave it a firm shake. “Yes sir, I’m sure that he was. And may I say once
more how very sorry I am, we are, for your loss.”
“Thank you young man, please
do proceed with the transfer to the funeral home straight away. It will be
greatly appreciated. Well, I must be off, cheerio
sir,” said the doctor. And with that he turned to let himself out.
Mr. Tolliver called after him,
“We will get right on this doctor, no worries, sir,” he bellowed slightly. He
watched the doctor walk away and could not explain an uncomfortable feeling of
foreboding. His mind drifted to a song by The Doors, “people are strange when you’re a stranger, people look ugly when you’re
alone…”
