Reputations

Myka might have thought that her first interview was going to go smoothly because the doctor seemed so cooperative. She had no way of knowing that when Doctor Wells was first informed of the Secret Service interviews, she was the loudest protester in the room.

"I don't have time for this," said the busiest coroner in all of New York City. "I will email them our protocol."

"As Chief Medical Examiner…," Chief of Staff Nielsen was about to remind the woman.

"Arthur, should someone die while they're visiting our great city, I will be there. I do not need to have my credentials scrutinized by some anal-type government employee. It's not like there are a dozen of me," the woman pointed out. "Surgeons, yes; Chief Medical Examiners, no."

He was still pointing out that it was protocol when she walked out of the room.

What changed the woman's mind was her own research. She was sitting have her afternoon tea; a ritual she informed her staff that would not change, no matter the body waiting for her, when an email arrived. It was notifying her of the schedule of interviews. She was about to delete it when she noticed the agents' names. Curiosity got the better of her and she looked up their biographies.

"Wrestling team?" she uttered, reading the first one's resume. "Neanderthal." Then, she happened upon the second agent's background. "Fencing? Now, there's a sport," she uttered and continued reading. "Premed, prelaw. No attention span, this one," she criticized until she saw Myka's picture. Something softened in the doctor. There was something in the picture that made her smile. She wasn't even sure what it was, but she decided she'd agree to the interview. But, only by this agent.

Now, Myka sat across from her, leather portfolio opened and in her lap. "You have quite an impressive background," Myka said, her pen tapping on the paper, a nervous habit she had since grade school.

Long ivory legs crossed over in front of Myka and pushed open the white lab coat. "I'm excellent at what I do," the doctor smiled and her honey warm voice made Myka unconsciously squeeze the pen.

Myka's analytical brain wanted to write down 'full of herself,' but didn't. She doubted she'd forget. "Doctor Wells, could you take me through what procedure you would have in place in the case of the President's death?" the agent asked matter of factly.

"Of course," smiled the doctor. "If it were to be of natural causes, I would visit the scene and announce time of death. If it were by assassination, I would wait here for the body to be brought to me," the coroner said calmly. "Either way, I assure you, he would be in the very best of hands."

Myka watched as the coroner displayed her open hands.

"And your team?" Myka asked, trying not to look directly at the woman. There was something in the gaze she returned that unnerved Myka.

"I have several, actually," the doctor informed Myka and decided to test the waters. "I thought you'd know that," she said, seeing if she could shake the agent.

"I meant the team you would handpick for such an event," Myka countered and the coroner liked that. She smiled and sat back in her chair, putting her hands on the leather sides.

"Call me Helena, please," Helena smiled.

It wasn't the dark eyes that smiled back at her that threw Myka; it was that she was experiencing distraction; something she never allowed on the job. Ever.

"Your team, Doctor Wells?" Myka repeated in the silence that fell between them.

But her interviewee was trained in somatic responses and she could see the flush rise in the agent's cheeks. She was either intriguing her or annoying her. She decided to press on to see which it was.

"Oh, bullock's," the doctor exclaimed when an alarm went off on her phone. It had been present in case the interview was boring.

"Somebody needs you?" Myka asked to be polite.

"A… body… needs me," Helena smiled. "I'll be tied up all afternoon with this one. Do you think… I mean… would it be possible to continue this later?"

"Later? Of course, I have other interviews…," Myka was saying as she flipped through the other bios.

"Over dinner, then?" Helena said smiling, standing up.

"Oh, I thought…," Myka hesitated, closed her book and rose from the seat.

"You do eat, don't you, Agent Bering?" the doctor smiled and extended her hand.

Myka looked down at the ivory skin that was in front of her. It was almost as if she were afraid to touch it. Myka drew a deep breath first and told herself she had nothing to be nervous about. "Sure, yes, okay then." She shook Helena's hand vigorously and then stopped.

"Eight o'clock?" Helena said as if she didn't have this plan already thought through. Myka had stopped shaking her hand, but she hadn't let go. "I will text you the address?" the doctor smiled, never once pulling her hand away from Myka's grip.

"Oh, sure, yes," Myka said again and realized it was she who hadn't let go. "Sorry," she blurted out when she released Helena's hand.

"Absolutely my pleasure," Helena smiled as she watched the agent back into the chair and then move around it to leave.

"Geesus!" Myka said, once she was safely on the other side of the door. "Nice one, Bering," she chastised herself.

"What happened to you?" Pete asked, coming around the corner.

"What? Nothing," Myka protested.

"You look all…," Pete said, making a swirling motion around his face with his finger.

"It was very warm in there," Myka said, looking back at the office she had just exited.

"Huh," Pete thought through. "You'd think the coroner would keep things cold; like freezing."

"Not her office, apparently," Myka surmised.

"Well, it turns out," Pete said proudly, "… that I dodged a bullet by letting you take the coroner."

"Yeah?" asked Myka, suddenly very thirsty. "How do you figure that?"

"Because your candidate is a control freak and mine is a huge football fan. Leslie's going to a bar tonight to watch the game. I'm thinking of going."

"Are we authorized to socialize with the staff?" Myka wondered out loud and Pete thought she was just being her usual stick in the mud.

"Myka, please – we're practically done here. We have two more full days. What's the harm in having a little fun?"

It was the first time that Pete presented that argument that Myka didn't counter it. "What do you mean control freak?" she went back to instead.

"Oh, yeah, the staff was talking about it. Has to have things her way, very demanding. You would think they'd be nice cause they're dealing with the dead, right?"

Myka stared at her partner. There was a lot of theories he had that she didn't understand, but that one, took the cake. Myka went about her other staff interviews that afternoon, as did Pete.

"Hey, why don't you come with us. I promise not to throw the cokes back to hard if you come," Pete offered.

"No, I'm actually going to finish up work," Myka said, but hesitated to say exactly where she was conducting the interview.