Lucas Wahl stepped out the door of his apartment building, and shivered, pulling his coat tighter around his body. It had snowed the previous night, and the cold lingered in the air, crisp and fresh. Remnants of snow crunched underfoot as Lucas made his way down the street, making a mental note to grab a takeaway coffee at the first Starbucks he passed.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, a pair of eyes followed Lucas him across the street as he walked down the sidewalk. When Lucas was halfway down the block, the owner of the pair of eyes crossed the road and began to subtly tail him, closely watching his every move.


Henry Morgan was having a good day, and it was only 8 o'clock.

Abraham had surprised him earlier that morning with the news that he had done a deal with a major antiques supplier, which would allow them a special discount on the good-quality products. What's more, an operatic record Henry had ordered had arrived in the mail that morning, and he was looking forward to playing it that evening.

Henry was in such a good mood, in fact, that he failed to notice anything amiss when he sailed through the morgue uninterrupted on his way to his office. He hung up his coat and scarf and relaxed into his chair, picking up the first case file on his desk: a Jane Doe, found in an abandoned warehouse the previous night. The initial report said she had been stabbed, but Henry was sure there would be more to the case. There usually was.

As Henry went out of his office and into the morgue he noticed for the first time the absence of a certain assistant medical examiner. Looking around, he could not see Lucas anywhere. That's strange, he thought briefly, it's not like Lucas to be late.

He scanned the room again, to no avail. Ah well, Henry decided, he must have popped over to another department for something or other. Henry selected another assistant examiner – Ruby, her name was, or perhaps she was Rosie – and began the autopsy on the unnamed woman.


Nearly an hour later, Detectives Martinez and Hanson walked into the morgue. "Good morning, detectives!" Henry greeted them with a large smile.

Jo winced; how was it possible for someone to be that chipper so early in the morning? Although admittedly, she would have been more alert, were it not for a loud party next door the previous night which had made it nigh on impossible to sleep. Her mood had not been improved one bit by her hot water cutting out in the morning, nor by the resulting cold shower and numerous calls to the gas company which had ultimately gone nowhere. And to top it all off, her car had broken down halfway to the office, making her walk the rest of the way in the cold. It was as if fate were laughing at her.

In short, Jo Martinez was having a bad day, and it wasn't even nine o'clock.

"Morning," she muttered when she and Mike drew closer. "What've we got?"

This woman," Henry indicated the corpse in front of him, "died from an overdose of painkillers."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? The preliminary report said she was stabbed."

"Oh, she was stabbed," Henry assured him, "but that wasn't what killed her."

Jo frowned and rubbed her head. She wasn't in the mood for Henry's riddles. "What happened to this woman, Henry?" she demanded.

Henry smiled. "This woman was found in an abandoned warehouse, correct?"

"Yeah," Mike confirmed, "late last night. And her name's Catherine Jones," he added, holding up a driver's licence with the dead woman's face on it. "This was just recovered, not far from the crime scene."

"Well, judging by the stomach contents and slight foaming at the base of the oesophagus," Henry indicated with one gloved finger, "I believe that Catherine Jones went to the warehouse alone yesterday evening, with the intention of committing suicide. If we look inside the stomach," Henry held out one hand, and a medical instrument was placed in his palm by the person next to him, "we can see some undigested pills."

Jo peered inside the body, and sure enough, there were several lumps of what could be sleeping tablets inside. She averted her gaze, looking instead at Henry. "So if she was committing suicide, why would somebody stab her?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Henry admitted. "The stabbing must have occurred after death, although her would-be murderer may not have known she was dead. Until we can know more about Miss Jones, it will be difficult to find out what secrets she may have had."

"Hold up," Mike said, scratching his head. "If Catherine was committing suicide, why wasn't there any sign of it at the crime scene? There was no pill bottle there, nothing like that."

"Unless the person who stabbed her, took them?" Jo suggested.

"Whoever it was, she knew them," Henry said. "Look at the upwards angle of the stab wound. She let the would-be-murderer get very close to her, and there are no other marks on her body, no signs of a struggle. If I were you, detectives, I would find out who Catherine's friends and family are. Any one of them might have been responsible."

Jo nodded, turning for the door. "Let's go." She was at the door when she realised that Mike wasn't beside her. She turned back to see him still standing by the autopsy table, looking awkward. "Mike?"

Mike shifted his feet. "I'd love to go, Jo, really. But I might have slightly promised the wife that I'd stay in the precinct today and do paperwork. Her mother's coming down to visit, and I might need to go pick her up from the airport. Sorry."

"It's fine," Jo assured him. "I know how much you love spending time with your mother-in-law."

Mike pulled a face.

Jo turned to Henry, who was trying not to look too hopeful. "How would you like to investigate another murder?" she offered.

Henry smiled. "I'll get my scarf."

He and Jo left the morgue together a minute later. Mike watched them go. "You know," he remarked to the person next to him, "whenever those two leave, I always get the feeling they're walking into the sunset together."

There was a laugh from beside him, which Mike was surprised to notice was that of a female. He turned to see a young woman standing there, wearing scrubs, holding the medical implement that Henry had used earlier.

After a moment of frowning, Mike shrugged, and walked away. It made sense that Henry would use other assistant from time to time. He headed back up to his office, thinking instead of the day of paperwork that lay ahead, as well as the inevitable awkward car ride with his mother-in-law. He could hardly wait.


Mike Hanson did not return to the morgue until seven hours later, when Jo and Henry had returned. He followed them through the glass doors into the morgue, refreshingly cool after the stuffy office. He had hoped they would get around to fixing the heater by now, after being stuck on the highest setting for a week, but no such luck.

"Wait," Mike said when he caught up to Jo. "It was Catherine's father who stabbed her?"

"Yup," she said. "And it was all down to a disagreement about the pendant, some priceless family heirloom."

Mike puffed out his cheeks. "That's a hell of a reaction to someone wanting to sell some necklace."

"Ah," Henry said from in front of his office. He turned around, scarf flying around behind him dramatically. "It isn't just some necklace. It was a priceless necklace with sapphire pendant, made in the 19th century, with a jewelled bow from around 1660. There is only one other like it in the world, and it currently resides in the Victoria and Albert Museum, in London."

Mike held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, Doc. I just meant that it seems drastic to kill your own daughter, that's all. Hell, I feel like I could throttle my boys sometimes, but I'd never do them any harm, you know?"

"Oh," Henry said. "In that case, I entirely agree with you." He turned back around, his coat swishing behind him, and sailed into his office, dropping his coat on the stand on his way over to his desk.

Mike exchanged an amused glance with Jo. They followed Henry through into his office, where he was already sitting down, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him.

The two detectives stood somewhat awkwardly across from Henry. Mike couldn't help being reminded of being summoned to the principal's office, back when he was a boy. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that he was in trouble for something.

Jo seemed more at ease. "Of course, it was Henry who really solved the case," she told Mike. "He saw the link between Catherine and some princess who lived fifty years ago-"

"Princess Rosetta Polouvicka," Henry supplied.

"-and used that to find the necklace, and the knife that he used. All in one day."

Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, Henry was a nice guy, but sometimes the doc just seemed too perfect. "Well done," he said. "Great work, Henry. Maybe you should become a detective."

Henry bowed his head modestly. "I hardly think I am that good at solving crimes. Besides, I do not think I could ever be as handy with a gun as you two are."

"Not that we really need guns, in our profession," said a quiet voice from the corner of the room. Mike jumped, and turned around to see the female assistant M.E standing behind him. He hadn't noticed her come in. "Although," she continued, "it would be cool to be able to do that."

Henry pursed his lips, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door. They all turned around to see Lieutenant Reece standing outside the door, looking in. Mike leaned forwards and opened the door for her, and Jo moved to the side to make room for Reece to stand. The office was beginning to feel crowded.

"Lieutenant," Henry greeted her, warm as ever. "How can I help you?"

"I heard you did some good detective work today," Reece told him. "Well done. Perhaps we should put you on our payroll."

Henry smiled. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a detective," he said again. "I prefer the medical side of things. I have more experience with death, than with solving deaths."

"Yeah, I'm sure being a grave digger was very illuminating," Mike muttered.

Jo tried to hide her smile.

"Was there anything else, Lieutenant," Henry asked, "or did you come down merely to offer me a job?"

"Actually," Reece said, "I was looking for Lucas. I need to give him back a book he loaned me." She looked around the room. "Where is Lucas, by the way?"

Henry froze, glancing around the morgue. Sure enough, Lucas was nowhere to be seen. "I…do not know," he admitted. "Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing him at all today."

Reece turned to look at Mike and Jo, who shook their heads. "I assumed he was sick or something," Jo said.

Henry shook his head. "Lucas always calls in to let me know when he is sick," he said. "I haven't heard from him."

He looked questioningly towards Rosie, who shrugged. "I hardly know the guy," she told the group. "Maybe he forgot to call in?"

Henry restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Lucas has an uncanny memory. He does not forget anything, especially not things like this."

"Henry," Reece said, bringing attention back to her, "are you seriously telling me that your assistant M.E has been missing all day, and you didn't notice?"

All eyes swivelled back to Henry, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I…had a lot on my mind?" he said hopefully.

Reece rolled her eyes.

"I tell you what," Henry suggested, "I shall go around to his flat now, and see if he is there. It's been rather a slow day at the morgue, and I am sure that Ruby here is more than capable of handling the autopsies."

"Rosie," she corrected him, but she couldn't help smiling, standing up a little straighter at his praise. It was widely known that Dr Morgan was one of the best medical examiners in New York City (if not the whole country), and to hear such a statement from him was a rare treat. Even if he did forget her name.

"Yes, yes," Henry said. "Rosie can continue here, and I'll go round to Lucas' apartment." He stood up to go, then paused as a realisation hit him. He turned back to the assembled detectives "Where exactly is Lucas' apartment?" he inquired.

Jo and Reece shrugged, looking at each other.

"Try his personnel file," Mike suggested.

"Excellent idea," Henry agreed, "except that I don't have access to his personal information."

"Well, who does?" Jo asked.

"In this department, only our direct bosses have access to our files," Rosie said helpfully. "It's a stupid system."

"And Lucas' boss is Doctor Epstein," Henry told the detectives.

"Who is away today," Rosie added. "Out of town."

"What, so we can't find out where the guy lives?" Mike asked.

"It would seem not," Henry said.

"Does anyone have his phone number?" Mike asked pragmatically.

Everyone shook their heads, looking around at each other.

"Hold on," Reece said. All eyes in the room turned to her, and she held up a small paperback book. "Lucas loaned me this book. He wrote his name and address inside the back cover, in case something happened to it."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Lucas thought you would lose it?"

She gave him a wry smile. "He didn't say so in as many words."

"Well, he's meticulous, I'll give him that," Jo remarked.

"There are many words that could be used to describe Lucas," Henry agreed, "but careless is certainly not one of them."

"Anyway," Reece said, "here's the address, if you want it." She stepped forwards and handed the book to Henry, opening it to the back cover.

"'Property of Lucas Wahl," he read aloud. "'Please return to 361 West 51st Street, Manhattan.' I shall go right away," he said, standing up and reaching for his scarf, beside him on his desk. Henry headed towards the door, grabbing his coat from the coat stand on the way past, and the others parted to give him room. "And I'll give him this back as well," he told Reece, holding up the book. She nodded.

"Wait, Henry," Jo said, just before he stepped out the door. He paused, raising a questioning eyebrow, and she reached into her pocket. "Take this with you," she said, pulling out her cellphone and handing it to him. "It'll be quicker to contact us when you get there, rather than having to come all the way back here. You can call Mike or the Lieu, their numbers are both in there, in the contacts."

Henry nodded, carefully taking the phone from her hand. "Contacts," he repeated, making sure he understood. "Thank you, Jo," he said, putting the phone inside his own pocket delicately, as if it could break at any moment. He put Lucas' book in his other pocket, then turned to Rosie. "I'm sure you will do an excellent job at the autopsies," he told her lightly, and then he was gone, his coat swishing around him as he went out the door.

Jo looked at Rosie. "How long have you worked here?" she asked. "I don't remember seeing you before today."

"Only a couple of weeks," Rosie said. "I've never worked with Doctor Morgan before, though."

"That might explain it," Jo said, nodding.

"Yeah," Mike said teasingly, "Jo only notices things when Henry's involved."

Jo lashed out with one hand, catching Mike hard in the side of his ribs, and he winced, looking around indignantly. Reece looked away, pretending not to notice, and Mike sighed, deciding it was probably in his best interests to shut up.