From: Sss44@aol.com Sent: Friday, September 07, 2001 1:15 AM To: akblake@lock-net.com Subject: Dead Men in Lingerie Summary: Men's underwear, Tracy, Nick & Nat in the morgue. Date: Sun, 19 Nov 1995 16:09:23 -0600 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: Dead Men in Lingerie Dead Men in Lingerie by Sharon S. Scott Tracy was trying not to laugh. The corpse wasn't funny. It was the third male corpse they'd found this week, and Reese was getting heat from the higher-ups to solve these cases asap. What was funny was the corpse's underwear. Boxer shorts. Decorated with big red hearts and tiny red ribbon rosebuds and red lace trim on the edge of the legs. The first body had been found in black satin jockey shorts. With the word "Studmuffin" embroidered in pink across the buttocks. The second had been wearing a white undershirt and white Fruit of the Looms. But the undershirt had a small addition--a sequined gold arrow pointing downward. And a big gold bow adorning the area the arrow was pointing to. "From the temperature of the body, T.O.D. was within the last 6 hours. I'll know more when we get the stomach results." Nat's attitude was businesslike as she directed the removal of the body. Tracy tried to hold in a giggle as she asked, "Cause of death?" But before Nat could answer, the giggle just had to come out. "I'm sorry, but that underwear ... " "It's not up to us to judge what people wear in the privacy of their own homes, Trace." "But ... rosebuds? The guy was 50 if he was a day, and balding, and ... " "And in poor physical condition. It's quite obvious he didn't get much exercise. Cause of death? Nothing obvious. No visible wounds or marks, just like the other two. We're still waiting on toxicology results on them." Tracy sighed. "Nick's gonna love this--he's still trying to track down leads on the other cases. We didn't need another one right now." "Three does seem to be the magic number in Toronto, doesn't it?" "Yeah, that's odd. You know, I hadn't really thought about it before ..." Nat looked at Nick's new partner in disbelief. "Well, after you've been around a while longer ... " "Oh, I would have figured it out sooner or later. I'm a good cop." Tracy smiled her bravest smile and flicked the hair out of her eyes. "Everybody says so." Nat's only comment was a grimace. ******** "Have anything for us yet?" Tracy bopped into the morgue, trailed by an obviously weary Nick. Nat wondered if she'd ever been that perky, even in her youth. "Hi, Trace, Nick. Yeah, I've got something for you." She covered the latest victim, then picked up the autopsy reports and turned to face the music. "Heart attacks." Tracy looked confused. "All three of them?" "All three. And before you ask, there's nothing in the tox reports to indicate that they were induced by any chemical substance." "So they all just dressed up in those ridiculous clothes and then just laid down and died?" Tracy looked even more confused. Nick passed a hand across his eyes, trying to rub the sleepiness from them. "She didn't say that, Tracy. Nat, any idea what did happen?" "Actually, I think they were loved to death." Nick's eyes opened as wide as Vachon's at that statement. "Loved to death?" "All three victims had histories of coronary disease. All three had scars from open-heart surgery. All three died as a result of myocardial infarction ... " Nat stopped and tapped the reports on the autopsy table. "And ... ?" "All three were dressed in "those ridiculous clothes," as Tracy puts it, after death. By the same person." "You have evidence to that effect?" Tracy asked. Nat gave her a look that would have withered the leaves on any oak tree. "Tracy, maybe you should go get a cup of coffee or something." Nick knew Nat's impending retort would probably have repercussions in the Commissioner's Office. "But I don't *want* coffee ... Nick? What the ... ? Well, okay, you want some too?" Tracy asked as the door was forcefully closed behind her. "One of these days, Nick ... " "I know, I know. She's immature, she's inexperienced, she's ... " He was interrupted by Nat's " ... she's a pain in the butt ... " "And she's the Commissioner's daughter. So, that said, what's your theory about our victims?" "It's a doozy, Nick. A real doozy, as Schanke would say." ************************** Hands occupied by three styrofoam cups full of coffee, Tracy kicked lightly at the morgue door. Giggles and shushing noises erupted from within. "Hey, guys, open the door." More laughter from inside. "What's going on in there?" Nat's breathless "Nothing!" wasn't very convincing. "Come on, open the door! I've got my hands full!" *Something* was going on in there. She carefully set the cups down on the floor and put her ear to the door. She could hear rustling noises, and whispers, and giggles. "I know you're in there--let me in!" "Go away! Umm, come back later! We already gave at the office! " Something was going on. And she *would* find out what. Picking up the now-cold coffee from the floor, she headed down the hall. And returned in a few minutes, sans coffee cups, but with the security guard's master key. Ear against the door, she strained to hear what was going on inside. Silence. Inserting the key in the lock, she opened the door slowly and carefully. She was a good cop, after all, wouldn't want to jump into something she couldn't handle. A slightly rumpled Nat was sitting on the edge of her desk, reading an autopsy report to Nick, who seemed to be sort of hiding between her and the wall, playing with the top button of his shirt. "Natalie? Nick? Are you okay?" Other than the laughter in Nat's face, and the slight blush on Nick's, she couldn't see anything wrong. Nat pushed her hair back from her face before she answered, "Of course we're okay. Why wouldn't we be?" "Didn't you hear me trying to get in?" "Oh, well ... yes, we heard you, but the door ... somehow ... got stuck shut ... and ... um ... we couldn't get it open. Right, Nat?" Nat didn't so much as glance as Nick before she answered, "Sure, yes, that's right. We tried and tried." Tracy went back to the door, shut it, and opened it easily. "That's strange. It seems to be okay now." Nick was making a strangled sound. Nat answered brightly, "Oh, you never know about that door. It gets stuck all the time." "You ought to call Maintenance about it, eh? You don't want to get locked in here." "I'll do that, Tracy. First thing tomorrow." "Maybe you should tell her about the evidence, Nat. You know, about the victims?" Nick's comment elicited a series of coughs from Nat, but after a drink of the water Tracy solicitously brought her, she was able to answer. "Yes, well, the evidence. I found long red hairs in the clothing of all three men. And traces of the same lipstick. And the same massage oil. And all three victims had had sexual relations prior to death. Most likely with the same woman." "A prostitute?" Tracy didn't like talking to hookers. They made her feel naive. "Or someone masquerading as a prostitute," Nick amended. "What did you mean by, what was it, "loved to death"?" Tracy asked. Nick's exasperated sigh made her feel naive, too. "She means this woman somehow knew, or traced, the medical histories of these men, then had sex with them, hoping to cause them to have heart attacks." "But why?" "I don't *know* why, Tracy. Finding out why is *your* job, not mine," was Nat's clipped answer. "Guess we better get started then. I hate interviewing prostitutes." Tracy started toward the door. "Coming, Nick?" "Right behind you." He followed her to the door, almost running into her when she stopped abruptly. "Nat, you said she dressed them up *after* their deaths? How do you know that?" Tracy asked. "No man would put a pair of red lace boxer shorts on backwards, would he?" Nat snapped. "Probably not." Tracy opened the door and went through. Nick started to follow her, then turned, walked back to Nat, and kissed her on the mouth. Nat kissed him back and whispered, "But it was fun experimenting, wasn't it?" ************************* The End of this silliness. :-) Scottie sss44@aol.com