The basement of the Medical Examiner's Office always smelled of industrial disinfectant, cold steel, and the faint, sweet undertone of decay. Detective Paul Lais hated it.
He pushed through the heavy double doors of Autopsy Room 44, his badge hanging loosely from his pocket.
"Tell me you have something, Victor," Lais said, pulling out a notepad. "The press is already spreading bullshit about police inefficiency, and knowing the mechanism, they'll start naming a random scapegoat very soon."
Dr. Victor Choclaire didn't look up immediately. He was standing over the stainless steel table, humming a classical melody—Verdi, perhaps. Arthur Brown lay naked and splayed open under the harsh surgical lights.
"Patience, Paul. Rushing analyses only leads to mistakes, and you don't want to send an innocent to death row," Choclaire murmured, his scalpel moving with terrifying, elegant precision. "Am I wrong?"
A young woman wearing a lab coat stepped out from the shadows. Aria was scrawny, with black, greasy hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Her eyes, entirely too large for her facial features, resembled a dark abyss. She held an old, dirty iPad clutched to her chest like a shield. She didn't look like a standard medical technician; she looked like a stray dog that had finally found a master.
"Yes, Doctor! You're absolutely right, as always," Aria chirped, her voice raspy.
Choclaire smiled beneath his surgical mask. He hadn't been waiting for an answer from the detective. Reaching into the pocket of his pristine white coat with a gloved hand, he pulled out a small, wrapped peppermint candy. He tossed it through the air. Aria caught it in her mouth with a disturbing lack of hesitation, crunching it loudly.
"Good girl," Choclaire purred.
Lais suppressed a shudder. He had worked with Choclaire for years, and the man's eccentricities only seemed to grow darker. The dynamic between the brilliant medical examiner and his grovelling new assistant was deeply unsettling. But Choclaire was the best in the city, and probably one of the best in the country. He never missed a detail.
"The toxicology report, Victor," Lais prompted, trying to ignore the crunching sound coming from Aria. "Was it the coffee?"
Choclaire finally stepped back from the table, stripping off his dirty gloves and tossing them into a biohazard bin. "Ah, the coffee. Yes. We ran it through the mass spectrometer twice. Do you know what we found, Detective?"
"Neurotoxins? Heavy metals?" Lais asked with apprehension.
"We found cheap Arabica beans, tap water, and milk that expired three days ago," Choclaire said, his eyes gleaming with morbid amusement. "The man was a millionaire, yet he drank garbage. But to answer your question: no. The coffee was clean."
Lais frowned, rubbing his temples. "If it wasn't the coffee, what was it? He died in that chair. He must have ingested something."
"I agree with you, Paul," Choclaire remarked, leaning against the counter. He gestured for Aria to bring up a file on the screen. "Indeed, I asked my team for a thorough toxicology screening. This is just an initial report on the most common toxins, and as you can see, it's immaculate."
The detective stared in confusion at the graphs and data beyond his comprehension popping up on the screen. "This might be a stupid question, but the alcohol level seems high compared to the other substances. Was he drunk enough to accidentally ingest some poison?"
Choclaire chuckled. "Well, we can't totally exclude that, but I believe that's not the case." The doctor had a hard time suppressing a guttural laugh. "First of all, Paul, you didn't consider his body mass. Plus, those levels are perfectly compatible with a business dinner and a few glasses of champagne to wash down a boring financial conversation."
Lais stiffened and let out a heavy breath, annoyed by the ME making fun of his ignorance. "Victor, what's your conclusion, then?"
"It's too early for that. I have a theory, but without a comprehensive toxicology report, I must not pronounce myself. I don't want to risk misleading you with an untimely statement."
The detective exhaled, his shoulders slumping from frustration.
"Look at the muscle tissue, Paul. Look at the absolute lack of contraction. This is flaccid paralysis at its finest," Choclaire said, an odd attempt to comfort the detective. "Whatever the chemical, the dose was meticulously administered in order to turn off his nervous system like a light switch."
A raspy giggle came from Aria's dark corner. "Like a light switch! The Doctor is so smart!"
"Thank you, Aria," Choclaire said, not looking at her. He stepped closer to Lais, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You are not looking for a street thug, Paul. You are looking for a ghost. A highly educated ghost with access to a sterile lab. Someone who respects the human body enough to preserve it, rather than destroy it."
Lais looked at Arthur Brown's peaceful face. The realisation hit him like a physical blow.
He had stood in that office. He had looked out that window. He had smelled the coffee. He had missed the vector entirely. If it wasn't on the desk... where did he get the poison? "How long from consumption to death?" Lais asked, his mind racing.
"Again, it depends on the chemical. For now, I can only assume between forty-eight and six hours," Choclaire replied. "Which means he didn't consume it in his office."
Lais frowned in annoyance. He wasn't expecting that kind of workload for a seemingly straightforward murder. "Okay, Victor. Thank you for your insight," the detective said under his breath. "I need a full list of everything in his stomach," Lais added, turning to the door. "Send it to my office ASAP."
"Consider it done, Detective," Choclaire called out as Lais pushed the doors open. "And Paul? Do let me know when you find this person. I would very much like to... rummage through their brain."
The doors swung shut, leaving Lais alone in the sterile corridor. He wasn't mentally ready to retrace Arthur Brown's entire day. Every person he spoke to. Every handshake. Every glass of water.
Inside the autopsy room, Choclaire looked down at the dead millionaire, tracing the man's jawline with a bare finger.
"A true masterpiece," Choclaire whispered to himself, a twisted smile spreading across his face. "Aria, fetch the bone saw. I want to keep a souvenir before the mortuary claims him."
"Yes, Sir," Aria said with a soldier-like demeanour.