Page 2 of Simon Says… Fight (Kate Morgan Thrillers #11)

D etective Kate Morgan walked into the morgue and stopped.

It took a minute to adjust to the smell of death.

It was always strong, yet at the same time overlaid with the scent of chemicals and cleanser.

As she stood here, her name was called from the side.

She looked to the left, and there was Dr. Smidge, busy at one of the autopsy tables.

She walked closer, and he frowned at her.

She frowned right back. She had learned that this was the only way to really handle him.

Plus, it also suited her because she was no friendlier than he was.

He watched as she approached and then pointed to the body on his table. “I presume this is the one you’re after.”

She shrugged. “Possibly, if this is the one that came in from the harbor.”

“It is,” he confirmed.

“A floater?”

“He was found floating,” Smidge corrected. “Yet no way in hell this was a floater.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, he was beaten to death,” he stated, followed by a shrug. “He didn’t go easily into the night, but I don’t think he was equipped to handle what was coming at him.”

“They never are, are they?” she replied with a sigh, mentally reminding herself to get her sorry ass back down to the dojo for more regular workouts.

If things like this were going on around her, she not only needed to know more about this but she needed to be well and truly in better shape than she was in right now.

It’s not that she had slacked off, but living the easier life with Simon had made it seem as if she had.

It was a good life, and so many extras made some things a whole lot easier.

Yet this poor guy in the morgue had seen the opposite side of life.

Staring down at the pounds of hamburger on the coroner’s table in front of her, she was again reminded that sometimes shit happened.

When it did, it brought all kinds of wrong into her world.

She shook her head, still focused on the body. “That’s well beyond beaten to death ,” she declared, staring at it. The bruises, the cuts, the bloating was too much. “This is like rage.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Dr. Smidge countered, with a nod, “but you’re right.

Whoever he pissed off didn’t hold back. I found a few lighter-colored bruises, as if some attempt had been made to dissuade him from whatever he was trying to get into.

Still, at the end of the day, he took a beating bad enough to kill him. ”

“Christ.”

“And I’m quite happy to put down something a whole lot more definitive than blunt force trauma as the final cause of death. However, in this case, I’ll just tell you flat-out that this guy was beaten to death. So,… murder.”

“ Great , which is why I’m here.”

“Of course it is,” he stated, with a bright smile. “And you won’t send me more, will you?”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she muttered. When he turned and glared at her, she nodded. “It will cease,” she replied, raising a hand in a stiff and formal pose.

“It might take me a day or two to put all that in writing,” he shared.

She stood here, hands on her hips, as she studied the body.

The body had truly been beaten, focused mostly on the head, chest, and some on the groin.

Thighs too, she noted. “It doesn’t look like…

Obviously we wouldn’t be looking at a professional fighter for something like this, but it does appear this dead guy was in one hell of a fight. His knuckles are bloody and bruised.”

“I’m not even sure if it was a single fight or if there was more to it,” Smidge suggested.

“However, this man didn’t survive the last blows to his head.

” He pointed to the severe damage around the occipital bone.

“There’s another equally rough one, which I would have said was from a hard kick to the back of the head,” he shared, again showing her.

“Ultimately these were the killing blows.”

She nodded. “And it wouldn’t take all that long at that point for death to occur.”

“No, a shattered bone went straight into the brain,” Smidge added.

She sighed. “Shit,” she muttered. “We do have an ID on him, by the way.”

“Good.” Smidge snorted. “He didn’t come in with anything.”

“Any idea how long he’s been dead?”

“Three days max,” he stated, with a curt nod. “He wasn’t in the water very long and had just started to swell. Not a whole lot else was going on there though. The fish weren’t even nibbling yet.”

She winced at that. “He was reported missing three days ago.”

He looked up at her and nodded. “Yep, that sounds about right. If he was held captive, or God-only-knows what, maybe he got into a fight and holed up somewhere, then decided to go back and retaliate.”

“Maybe,” she murmured. She didn’t see why or how that would appeal to anybody. If you got your ass kicked once, why would you return to get it kicked again? But she didn’t understand a lot of people, so that thought wasn’t a surprise.

Smidge looked over at her. “Just confirm you don’t bring any more like it.”

She looked at him, startled. “ Like it ?”

“Yeah, like it,” Smidge repeated, his tone grim. “I’ve seen bruises like this before.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Do tell.”

He shook his head. “I used to box… a lot,” he noted, with an eye roll. “And this just has that feeling to it.”

“Boxing injuries?” She frowned at him and then back down at the body with interest.

“No, not so much boxing injuries but fights. This is a little more like… street fighting,” he pointed out. “That tends to be an environment where something hot, rash, and immediate happens. It has a different feel to it than traditional boxing.”

“Point taken,” she said, as she thought about it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Maybe you should ask that boyfriend of yours,” Smidge added, with half a snort, chewing on the word boyfriend .

Kate nodded. Being a man of science, Smidge was wary of Simon’s gift and his ability to come through with such bizarre leads. Smidge didn’t know the extent of it all, but he had some idea. She glanced at him and tried to keep her tone mild. “You and I both know how that will go over.”

“Maybe,” he replied, squinting at her. “As much as I hate to even consider it, there are times I do wonder…”

“Wonder what?” she asked, eyeing him closely.

“If there’s something… more to him.”

“Oh, I know something is more to him ,” she declared, her tone calm. The last thing she needed was the morgue to be gossiping about Simon and his strange abilities.

“Sure, but you don’t talk about his abilities either,” he countered, pointing a finger at her.

“Yeah, because I’m usually not sure if they are abilities or liabilities,” she stated in a hard tone.

Smidge gave a crack of laughter. “Honest to God, if it were me, they would definitely be liabilities. I’m black-and-white. I thought Simon was too, until he started walking into the gray area.”

“I don’t think he’s terribly comfortable with those walks either,” she admitted. “It’s also why he doesn’t give us a ton of information. He can’t get everything.”

“Yeah, I think that goes for all psychics though,” he muttered. “It’s weird shit, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t ask you,” she muttered, “because it’s the same damn question I have to figure out myself. It’s just weird shit all the way around.”

He chuckled and nodded. “But Simon himself? He’s a good guy.”

She smiled. “I agree with you on that as well.”

“You better,” he said, with a smile. “You’ve got a good thing going.”

“No, not necessarily,” she replied, staring at him. “I don’t think anything is a good thing when it comes to relationships.”

“Maybe not, but, at least in this case, he seems to have an eye for keeping you safe.”

She winced at that. “I’ll never live down that my stepfather almost shot me to death, will I?”

“No, you sure won’t,” he agreed cheerfully. Then he frowned at her and added, “And now you’re stopping me from my work, so time for you to leave.”

She gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, I hear you. You nag me so damn much I can’t ever get anything done.”

He rolled his eyes in mock insult, then waved her off. “Get lost.”

With that, she turned and walked out, calling back to him, “I need that report.”

“You’ll get it when you get it,” he snapped.

And, both of them happy with that snarky exchange, she headed back out to the car and joined Rodney, who was leaning against the vehicle, waiting for her.

He took one look at her smiling face and groaned. “How the hell can the two of you get along so well?” he asked. “You do know something is wrong with that man, right?”

“You mean, the fact that he works around dead bodies all day?”

“That for a start,” Rodney muttered. “Yeah.”

She laughed. “So, what is there to bitch about? He does a very valuable job, and we need him.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he muttered. “And I hate that place. It gives me the creeps.”

“I know you do,” she noted, smiling at him. “Which is why I took pity on you and went in myself.”

He rolled his eyes at that. “You like it in there.”

“Oh, I definitely find a certain amount of… I guess this will sound odd, but I find it quite… peaceful.” He just turned and stared. She shrugged. “ Peaceful in that they’re all dead. It’s not like anybody there can argue with me.”

Rodney gave a snort of laughter at that. “Which is probably why Smidge likes it too. Nobody talks back to him.”

“Maybe,” she conceded cheerfully. She looked around at the hospital complex, where the morgue was located, remembering other cases and other people.

As if he read her mind, Rodney joined her, hooking his arm through hers. “Someday, hopefully a long time from now, we’ll find out that everybody in this field is a serial killer. Like that TV show?”

She turned to him, startled.

“You think I didn’t see what you were thinking?” Rodney quipped.