Miss Charlotte’s Case Journal - Chapter 22

What could have happened to this man? Henry had said he’d been found lying among the garbage piles in a back alley. His eyes hadn’t even been closed, his face twisted in agony.

Charlotte glanced sideways at Henry. He too was standing beside the autopsy table, gazing silently at the man’s face. The complex emotions flickering in his eyes were conveyed to Charlotte just as they were.

“An autopsy?”

When Charlotte asked in disbelief, Henry nodded slowly, heavily.

“You could’ve just filed an official request through the morgue.”

He let out a long sigh before speaking again, “It needs to be done in secret.”

In secret? Charlotte frowned sharply. Secretly, discreetly, quietly. What good ever came from words like that? She, of all people, had recently experienced the harm those words could bring all too painfully.

Noticing her hesitation, Henry hurried to explain, “His family’s against the autopsy, so there’s nothing else I can do. He was found clearly murdered, but trying to investigate without any evidence is nearly impossible.”

He said he’d take full responsibility if anything went wrong, that if the truth came out, she could just claim she’d been deceived. Henry looked like he might drop to his knees and cling to the hem of her dress if she refused. The desperate plea in his eyes made it impossible for Charlotte to turn him down.

In truth, what moved her wasn’t his promise to bear the blame, but the fact that the deceased man had been Henry’s friend. Though their difference in social class had kept them from seeing each other often, Henry’s face was heavy with grief as he spoke of the memories they’d shared in childhood, of the friendship and comfort they’d once given each other.

Losing someone you love is always painful, but witnessing their death firsthand is a different kind of agony. Even more so when that death comes from another’s malice. Charlotte understood that better than anyone.

Adjusting her slipping glasses, she swallowed hard. Henry was gently holding the man’s stiffened hand. Charlotte put on her gloves and forced her voice to stay calm.

“Don’t touch the body.”

“…Ah, I’m sorry.”

Henry awkwardly pulled his hand back. Charlotte tossed him a pair of gloves and jerked her chin. Put them on.

“Me too?”

“You’ll be helping me.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You expect me to do an autopsy that usually takes three people all by myself?”

Her eyes clearly said, ‘Are you out of your mind?’

“…I’ll put them on.”

Henry quickly slipped on the gloves, smiling awkwardly. Charlotte sighed deeply.

“Normally, we’d change clothes too… but since this has to stay secret, and I can’t just take my seniors’ gear without permission, we’ll skip that part. That’s not an expensive outfit, right?”

When we’re done, the smell will stick to it completely. It’s not easy to get rid of. No matter how hard you wash it, you probably won’t be able to wear it again. At Charlotte’s warning, Henry nodded with a serious face.

“Don’t worry. I can afford a new one.”

Charlotte, already dressed in her autopsy uniform, put on her gown and apron over it. When she turned on every light above the autopsy table, the preparations were complete. Closing her eyes tightly, she traced the sign of the cross and offered a short moment of silence. Henry, too, made the sign with reverence.

Charlotte lifted the scalpel. The blade gleamed under the light, glinting sharply.

***

When the autopsy ended, Charlotte shoved Henry straight into the men’s shower room first. Then, moving like a dazed ghost, she staggered into the women’s shower room.

As the hot water poured over her head, Charlotte let out a long sigh. Thankfully, she hadn’t fainted this time during the autopsy. But every time blood spurted or splashed, she still couldn’t stop the gasps and small cries that escaped her lips.

Charlotte thought to herself what a ridiculous sight she must have been and smacked her head against the shower wall. The sharp sting helped her regain a little clarity.

She scrubbed her body with soap until her skin turned red, and only then did she leave the shower. She roughly dried her hair with a towel and threw on a fresh change of clothes without much care. The fabric smelled faintly pleasant, but to Charlotte’s nose, the foul stench still lingered. The smell of corpses. The smell of death.

Stuffing her soiled clothes into the laundry bag, Charlotte rubbed the area beneath her nose. She pulled out an old perfume bottle from the back of her cabinet and sprayed her neck and wrists a few times. A deep woody scent slowly filled the air. It was a little musty from age, but it helped calm the heart that was still pounding after seeing all that blood.

She rummaged through her cabinet like she was ready to turn it upside down until she finally found a thick bathrobe. She’d brought it about a week after starting work at the morgue, following her seniors’ advice that she’d have to shower after every autopsy. Of course, it hadn’t taken long for her to realize such things were useless here. There was never any time to leisurely dry her hair or take care of her skin like she did at home.

Perhaps because it had been tucked away for so long, it carried a faint, musty odor. It was one of those things people would complain about even if you gave it to them for free. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, then sprayed the robe all over with perfume. The mixed scents created a strange but tolerable smell.

Yawning widely, Charlotte stepped out of the shower room. Her neck, shoulders, and even her legs felt stiff and heavy. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. She yawned again and again as she knocked on the men’s shower room door.

“This is the only thing you can wear. I’ll leave it here.”

Charlotte opened the door just a crack and slid the robe through. There was no sound of running water from inside. Henry had probably finished showering and was hesitating, unsure of what to do next. Well, anyone with a nose would think twice before putting those clothes back on.

Leaning back in her chair, Charlotte sighed deeply. Her eyelids kept growing heavier, and her head felt numb, like it was submerged underwater. The clock showed it was past three in the morning. Ah, I’m dying. What time will I get home? How long can I sleep? Will I even be able to get to work tomorrow?

It had been her choice to stay late, but exhaustion made her start resenting Henry again. Never taking on another favor like this, she thought bitterly. Tomorrow, I’ll take it easy. The seniors said they’d cover for me anyway….

Lost in those idle thoughts, Charlotte heard the creak of a door opening. She turned her head automatically.

“…Hmm.”

She let out a short sound under her breath.

Henry was wearing the robe Charlotte had given him. Naturally, it was far too small for him.

It barely covered his stomach and waist, and his chest was completely exposed. The fabric around that area stretched so tight it looked ready to tear, as if the cloth itself were crying out in pain. Below was even worse; his calves and half his thighs were visible.

“It’s a bit… small.”

Charlotte turned her head stiffly and spoke in an awkward tone. Staring too long at that sight felt far too inappropriate. Henry, just as uncomfortable, covered his bare chest with one hand and murmured softly.

“It’s alright. I have a spare uniform at the station.”

“That’s… good to hear.”

Charlotte stood up and glanced briefly at his face before quickly looking away again. Just moments ago, she’d been tired and sluggish, but suddenly she felt completely awake. Ugh, now I’m wide awake. How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow?

Before showering, they had cleaned up the autopsy room, though it was still a little messy. Charlotte looked around and sighed deeply, speaking gloomily.

“You should go first. I need to tidy this up a bit. If I leave it like this, people will notice tomorrow that a secret autopsy was done.”

“Ah, I’ll help too.”

“No, it’s fine. Just go.”

“But you went through all this trouble because of my request. How could I just leave you to clean up alone?”

Well, that was a fair point. Quite reasonable, really. After all, she’d granted his request, so asking him to help clean up wasn’t too much. Even if he was from the Metropolitan Police, it seemed he had some conscience.

When Charlotte nodded in understanding, Henry smiled brightly. He rolled up his sleeves—though there wasn’t much to roll up—and grabbed a mop from the corner. Watching him wipe the floor, Charlotte opened her mouth again.

“Put that down and go home.”

“Huh?”

Why all of a sudden? Isn’t this how you clean? Henry turned to her with a puzzled expression. Charlotte awkwardly waved her hand, staring vaguely into the air. Just go. Quickly.

“I’m fine, Miss Charlotte. This is nothing.”

“I said I’m fine too, so please, just go.”

“But, Miss Charlotte….”

The pointless back-and-forth continued until Charlotte’s patience finally reached its limit. The calm expression she’d been forcing herself to maintain twisted sharply as she snapped back quickly.

“Please stop bending over like that! It’s so embarrassing, seriously!”

Ah, my eyes…. Where’s the disinfectant? I should just pour it in.

***

In the end, Charlotte was the one who cleaned up the autopsy room alone. Henry left, scratching the back of his neck, his face burning red. Alone, Charlotte mopped the floor, disinfected the used tools, and erased all traces of the work they’d done. By the time she finished, it was nearly five in the morning.

Going home was impossible now. Dragging her weary body, Charlotte returned to her office. She planned to catch some sleep anywhere, even for a short while. Otherwise, she’d never make it through tomorrow’s—or rather, a few hours later’s—work.