Brian Belden, M.D., grabbed the mail on his way up to the apartment. There was something comforting about living in the same apartment he lived in since starting his college career. Being a scared freshman seemed as if it was eons ago.
Of course, his life was much different now as opposed to back then. When he first started college, he roomed with Jim; a year later Mart and Dan were added into the mix. The year after that… well, he shouldn't have been surprised. Jim Frayne, all-around honorable guy, and his best friend married Trixie the moment she graduated high school. Trixie, Brian's baby sister, and brilliant sleuth had led his best friend on quite a merry chase and still did.
And Jim loved it.
A year or two later, Brian returned the favor by marrying Jim's sister, Honey. The apartment that was a man cave in his earlier years was now home. It had been, ever since Honey moved in. Mart, Di, and Dan were back in Sleepyside. Dan was climbing the ranks of Sleepyside's finest; Mart was an investigative reporter for The New York Times, and Diana was making a name for herself as a talented forensic sculptor.
Honey was firmly entrenched at Locard and Trixie was gradually assuming the mantle of head of the agency as Will Breitling looked forward to full retirement. Jim easily passed the bar in several states and was the head of the charitable foundation funded by Matt Wheeler and Ed Lynch.
They hadn't told the others yet. It wasn't time. Not even their parents, but she suspected his sister might have deciphered the mystery.
Honey was pregnant. They were both thrilled and scared, although they had plenty of practice with Jim and Trixie's kids. Multiple kids. Jamie, Michael, Stephen, all boys. And they weren't done yet. Mart and Diana had one, Cassidy Lynn and she was a handful! Lately, Diana was hinting she wanted another.
And now, he was waiting for that magic envelope once again. He completed his residency in pathology and applied to the Medical Examiner's Office in New York City. The envelope that would advise him if he was accepted into The Forensic Pathology Fellows Program in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. It was one of the most sought-after fellowships in the world.
At the end of the program, he would sit for the board examination to become a board-certified Medical Examiner, perhaps even get a job offer from the M.E.'s office. He knew that by obtaining his certification, he could practically go anywhere and be assured of a healthy salary with wonderful benefits for his growing family.
Brian wanted to stay, though. Where else would he see everything? Maybe another large city like Los Angeles, but he wasn't a Californian deep in his soul. It was too far away from his extended family. Maybe he'd never be rich, but he'd be making a salary of over one-hundred thousand dollars if he was accepted. If he were hired, that would bump up to close to two-hundred thousand. He could also choose to stay for another year of the fellowship, specializing in heart and brain pathology.
He was debt-free, thanks to the generous scholarships and grants he received. The letter he was waiting for would admit him into a four-week probation. If he passed that, then he would become a Fellow. It was a heady feeling.
He did interview with the no-nonsense Chief Medical Examiner in the squat, tired old building that housed the morgue and her offices. Dr. Scotto asked him, straight off the bat, why he wanted to spend his time among the dead instead of treating the living. It was a question she asked all prospective Fellows. Their answer to that simple question was given the most weight by her. It also weeded out the morbid, those interested in just money, and a couple of times, psychos who had an unhealthy fascination with cold bodies.
Had he known it, his answer intrigued her more than most. "My sister," he replied, succinctly.
Her eyebrows rose. "Your sister?"
"Yes. My sister, well, she's a detective. Not just any detective," he smiled as he warmed to the subject of his only female sibling. "My wife, too. Ever since Trixie was a kid, she's gotten us all involved in mysteries. I used to get angry with her all the time, Honey – that's my wife – too. They would just lurch from one mystery to the other, dragging the rest of us behind. We all kind of thought she'd grow out of it, but she didn't." He paused for a moment, love and wonder lighting his rather serious face.
"Instead, she grew up to be a brilliant criminologist. I always wanted the be a doctor, ever since I could remember. My sister and her mysteries changed me. Changed our friends, too. I found I want to know more about the mystery of death. To be the last person to stand for the deceased. To try and provide answers to the loved ones, police; to chart the course of death for researchers."
"Your sister is a police officer?"
"No, my sister is the head of The Locard Society. You may have heard of her. Trixie Belden Frayne."
"You don't look much alike," Dr. Scotto opined. The man before her was tall, with coal-black hair and brown eyes to match. Trixie Frayne was a tiny dynamo, blonde and blue-eyed and nearly vibrating with energy.
"She and my two brothers got the Johnson genes, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I look like my dad. So, you do know her." He wondered if that was a good thing.
"We've met many times." Dr. Scotto gave him a considering look. "You know, if you work here, you won't be carrying a black leather medical bag. Rather, you'll be carrying a Craftsman toolbox. You won't be dissecting in a hospital, but may be out at scenes with the most disturbing, horrific things one human can torture another human with."
"I'm aware of that. I still would like to apply."
Dr. Scotto asked a few more questions, smiled and terminated the interview. She stood shook his hand. "Thanks for coming in, Dr. Belden. I have several more interviews to get through this week, and you should hear something within the next three weeks."
Brian opened their mailbox in the lobby of the building, pulling out the junk mail, magazines, and envelopes that comprised their daily delivery. A part of him wondered if he should have mentioned Trixie, Honey, and Locard. Trixie could be abrasive at times and even Honey, though more tactful, had a habit to cutting to the chase. Either one of them might have gotten into it with the M.E.'s office, especially if they thought a crime was involved.
He caught the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. It was still the special elevator Matt Wheeler had installed, but instead of being manned by bodyguards, they needed an electronic key. Oh, they still had a reduced staff. Some of the criminals Locard helped put away swore revenge. It's just that they were less visible these days.
Brian sorted through the mail and there it was. An envelope with the return address of the M.E.'s office. He closed his eyes and sucked a breath in through his teeth. Well, if I don't get in, I don't get in. There were other, similar training programs, but none as prestigious as this one. And applying to another would mean they'd have to move.
He unlocked the apartment and flipped on the lights. Honey wasn't home; the monthly meeting of all the Locard Society experts was tonight. They were reviewing several cases where their assistance was requested by local law enforcement. It was likely to be a long night for her.
Brian plopped down on the bar stool at the kitchen island. He placed all the rest of the mail off to one side, to be dealt with later. He held his future in his hands, almost reluctant to open it. But, he did with the utmost care.
All he needed to read was the first line. You have been accepted to the four-week probation period for prospective Forensic Pathology Fellows. His heart was hammering a mile a minute as he exhaled a breath he was unaware he was holding.
He did it.
He made the first cut.
He grabbed his phone and sent a text message to Honey as he promised he would, and then he called Moms.
"Hey, sweetie, what's up?" Helen Belden had a feeling. She had a feeling all day about her eldest child.
"Hi, Moms. I just received the news I made it into the probationary Fellowship at the medical examiner's office. I did it, Moms."
"Congratulations, Brian! I had no doubts, you know. They'd be awfully silly if they didn't accept you." Helen smiled into the phone, even though he couldn't see her. They chatted for a few minutes, and she promised to tell Peter.
She sat in her chair in the homey kitchen of the house with stretchy walls and, more importantly, a stretchy heart, shaking her head, bemused. Brian wanted to be a doctor ever since he got his first play doctor kit as a present from her sister, Alicia.
Over the years, there were times he wanted to be general practitioner like Dr. Ferris. Then a pediatrician; an orthopedic surgeon like Dr. Joe in the City; even an obstetrician. Who would have even considered he might end up as a forensic pathologist?
All of the kids, the Bob-Whites, were infected by the enthusiasm and excitement of Trixie's mysteries. Honey could have been anything she wanted to be, yet she was there in Locard, slogging through the most mysterious of mysteries. Diana gave those poor victims without faces a chance at being identified. Mart was investigating all kinds of crimes for a prestigious paper, making a name for himself. Dan was a cop right here is Sleepyside. Jim, who one wouldn't think had anything at all to do with mysteries, found out that as the head of a large foundation, there was much investigating to be done and corruption to root out. Even Bobby was studying Forensic Computer Science at Boston College.
Peter came into the kitchen with a steaming pizza. "Met the Domino's kid outside," he laughed.
Helen smiled up at her husband. He was leaving the bank soon, had handed in his retirement papers. Not to retire, nope. He was going be a financial analyst with Wheeler/Hart part time. Matt finally convinced Peter that he really needed his expertise in rooting out financial fraud and misappropriation, especially in today's sensitive world. Peter was instrumental in helping the Feds to break a money-laundering ring operating in Westchester County a year or so ago.
"I'll get us a couple beers," Helen offered as Peter set the hot pie on the table.
"Sounds good to me! I'll go wash up, babe."
A few minutes later, they settled at the table, paper plates and ice-cold bottles taking the place of everyday china and glasses of Coke. "Brian got accepted to that program in the medical examiner's office," Helen beamed. "He called just before you came home."
"That's my boy!" They clinked bottles in celebration.
"How come they're your kids when they do something good, and my kids when they do something bad?" Helen's Johnson blue eyes twinkled at him.
"Father's rule. We get to claim all the good stuff."
As many members of the Locard Society that could attend in person were in the comfortable, secure space, Will Breitling had procured. After the first year of meetings, where they were politely asked never to return to the various restaurants they used, Dr. Brietling purchased a rather plain vacant building that had once been used as a stable in 1900.
He thought a long time before investing in the building, and soon realized it was a must. At every Locard Society meeting, the guest presenters might have gruesome crime scene photographs, autopsy slides, or other not very family-friendly discussions.
The meetings followed a certain protocol. There was a meet and greet with the members, followed by a repast where Locard business was discussed. Afterwards. The tables were cleared, and the guest presenters took the stage. The Society Members each received a summary of the available facts and pertinent information several weeks before the meeting; the meeting was a chance for the presenters to talk about the case and for Society Members to ask hard questions.
Wait staff and other restaurant guests who stumbled into meetings or saw and heard the crimes being discussed before Dr. Brietling purchased the building were horrified at what they witnessed.
With the purchase of a separate space, the organization was able to have privacy. They installed computer equipment, white boards, and a stage at one end for the presenters. The second floor held a few conference rooms, storage and some offices where itinerant members could catch up with their work while at Locard. There were also green rooms for the guests to ready their presentation.
The rule was: no cell phones during the meeting. The law enforcement agencies that were asking for help traveled to New York City at their own expense, and they deserved the full attention of the audience. To blink away to catch a text might mean an important clue was missed.
Therefore, Honey did not get Brian's text until after the first set of presenters, from a little town in Arizona, finished presenting their case. A seventeen-year-old boy was found dead in the desert a few weeks after being reported missing by his parents. He was generally a good kid, worked hard in the family business, was a great student and looking forward to spreading his wings at college.
The Society reviewed the case, evidence, and autopsy, such as it was, providing some good advice to the overwhelmed Sheriff on how to get the perpetrators to confess and suggested a few tests on various items found at the scene.
Honey glanced at her messages. Quite a few, but the one from Brian stood out. Got in!
She immediately turned to her sister-in-law. "He did it, Trix! Brian got into the Fellowship program at the New York City Medical Examiner's Office. He'll be on probation for four weeks while they determine if they're a good fit for each other, but I know he'll make it. I'm so proud of him." She placed her hand over her slightly distended abdomen.
Trixie lit up with happiness immediately. "Gleeps, Honey! I'm so thrilled for him, you, and little sprout. We'll have to get together and have a celebration. I know the M. E.'s office gets tons of applications from all over the world. Brian is elite!"
Honey smiled back until Trixie's words sunk in. Her topaz eyes widened, and her face was a mask of shock. "Little Sprout? Oh my God, Trixie, how did you know? Brian and I weren't going to tell anyone until the first trimester passed."
Trixie rolled her eyes. "We're detectives, Honey. I detected it. Besides, a few mornings in the past month or so you've looked rather green around the gills. Not to mention that protective hand over your belly. Classic pregnancy tell. I'm so excited for you and Brian, not only for his acceptance into the program but for your burgeoning family." Trixie threw her arms around the woman with the suspiciously moist eyes.
"Brian is over the moon about the baby, and this just completes our happiness."
"It looks like we'll have to be enlarging the nursery in the main building," Trixie giggled. She got the high sign from the AV personnel that the next set of guest presenters was ready. She grabbed Honey's hand and squeezed. "From birth to death in one breath."
She nodded, and the next presentation commenced.
A few weeks later, Dr. Brian Belden's first day was a blur. The five new probationers were given a tour of the building; almost 600 people worked in shifts there, 24 hours a day. Dr. Scotto addressed them as a group after they completed some of the obligatory paperwork.
"Room 335 is your room, and by your, I mean all of you. You can each choose a desk, and I ask that you not make me mediate who is going to get which one. Part of being a successful medical examiner is to be able to work as a team. You are going to alternate days. A days are designated autopsy days. P days are designated for paperwork completion, and boy, there is a lot of it. You are going to be required to attend lectures on topics like firearm injuries, traumatic injuries including blunt force trauma and vehicle accidents, and pediatric deaths. You'll also rotate through the labs, have infectious disease training, attend crime scenes, and learn how to respond to both domestic and foreign terrorist threats."
She paused and looked at each one of them in turn. "I am going to give you the standard warning that I give all prospective medical examiners. This isn't pretty like the morgues in hospitals. Your patients are not going to be washed and antiseptically clean. You are going to get floaters, decomps, and exhumations. You are going to learn the smell of death, and you're going to take it home with you. It's going to get in your eyes, in your nose, and in your throat. It's going to stick to your clothes and shoes. My suggestion is to go to a thrift store and buy some old clothes. Even though you'll be in scrubs, you'll find that odor just adheres to everything. Also, when you go out to a scene, you'll not be in scrubs. Since we don't know what we're going to find, it's better to have on something you can toss away if you have to. I also must caution you to keep an open mind. We are the last people to stand for the dead. Don't let the opinions of other doctors or law enforcement color your judgment. Remember, we're looking for the truth, not someone's a version of it, but the scientific truth. The deceased deserve it and so does their family. Now, if after this little lecture, you don't think that this is the job for you, please come and see me as soon as possible. I don't want you to be unhappy here, and it would be better to part company now than somewhere down the line. Thank you for your attention and be here tomorrow by 8 AM sharp. You may resume your paperwork."
Later on that day, Brian stepped out into the cool evening, bade goodbye to some of his co-workers and ran to grab the subway. Before he descended into its depths, he turned to face the building and grinned.
Yeah. He'd be back. Most definitely.
A/N: I will be adding chapters occasionally to this story, if all goes well!