Helen. "Nothing of nothing of a damned thing," Stevenson confirmed, then sat down in a disheveled pose and folded his hands on his stomach.
"So to date, we are unable to establish the causes of their deaths?"
"Absolutely not!"
"And what will I tell their relatives when they'll come here?"
"I don't know, if I were in your place I'd burn the car with the corpses in it and come up with a different version of the story to feed the journalists."
"You're kidding, aren't you?"
"Such a case can only lead to trouble," he insisted disenchanted.
"I don't understand how you can be so cynical," Helen murmured.
"Believe it or not I'm saying it for your own good. Those are gone now and at this point how it happened doesn't matter. What really matters is that fighting windmills often end up getting us in trouble up to our necks. Knowing the cause of death would not help you bring them back to life, nor to find any responsible ... listen to me, try to get rid of this case as soon as possible, in one way or another. There are too many off-key notes in this story."
Helen looked thoughtful and began to fiddle with the paperweight because in her heart she knew that Stevenson had said something true: that story couldn't have lead to other than trouble.
"Don't you read the report?" He urged, interrupting her thoughts.
"And what for? There will certainly be written" negative ... negative ... negative ... "Helen replied, and he nodded. "At this point, I don't even understand why you are here, a phone call would have been enough."
"I want to see your mummies."
"For what purpose?"
"Simple professional curiosity, something like this has never happened to me in so many years. I also brought the camera and the equipment necessary to take new samples," Stevenson explained, rekindling a faint hope in her. "New samples? Then you have some ideas!" She exclaimed confidently.
"No idea, but if what you told me is true, maybe some scholars of different alternative disciplines could help us out. Those not approved, so to speak. Maybe we could even make some sensational discovery ... are we going?" He proposed without putting the usual bit of sarcasm in his voice.
"If it pleases you ..." she replied, shrugging.
It was a long time since Luke Mc January's met the man who had hired him. He had never phoned him and as far as he knew he could even have died due to some typical old age ailment, like a heart attack or pneumonia. But for all that time someone had worked hard to ensure that his Visa wouldn't be blocked and this comforted him. Luke turned on the direction indicator to enter a gas station and the attendant took his eyes off the book to look him annoyed, for the last half hour it was the fourth time he began to read the third last page of the novel and it was the fourth time someone interrupted him ... and three times out of four they had only asked for information. He thought angrily that even on that day he would not be able to finish reading his book, so he closed it and threw it on the table with a blatant gesture, then took a sip of lemonade and walked with a listless step towards the car.
"Fill it up, please," Luke said, handing him the key of his Dodge Nitro's tank, then got out to stretch his legs a little.
"Fine," replied the attendant, opening the flap of the tank in a brisk manner.
"Is there a restroom I may use?" Luke asked him. The other pointed to a door next to the entrance to the store with a nod of his head and watched him walk away as he pumped diesel into the car. Tall and thin, dressed in a pair of tight black leather trousers and a raincoat also in very fine black leather, Luke reminded the attendant of the protagonist of the novel he was vainly trying to finish reading. But the fact that man went around dressed like that, made him think that maybe he was a little tossed in the head. "This is the classic type that will never wear gym clothes," he said to himself. When Luke returned to the car the attendant was cleaning his windshield, a supply of a hundred dollars could always soften him up a bit.
"You've traveled a lot, huh?"
"What made you understand that ?"
"You've made a beautiful massacre of gnats."
"Indeed."
"Are you here for the Lobster's Festival?"
"Lobster's Festival?" Luke said curiously.
"Yes, it is an event that takes place every year at the marina and on the main streets of Rockland, it's a gigantic festival of the lobster. It doesn't have anything exceptional, but if you aren't busy yet I suggest you not to miss it, at least it is very original."
"It smells good, it seems more a summer festival ..." Luke considered.
"In fact, the event usually takes place in the first days of August, but this year the Hurricane Sandra has put the sticks in the wheel to the organizers and so the festival will begin in a few days."
"Actually, I'm traveling for pleasure, so if you tell me it's really worth it, I might even decide to stay until then. After all, this place seems quiet and welcoming to me," Mc January explained to him, handing him a one-hundred-dollar bill, then he sat down in the driver's seat.
"I wouldn't call it very quiet lately," replied the attendant looking out the window to hand the rest over.
"... What do you mean?"
"Just in the last two days so many things have happened ..." he said, cursing himself immediately afterward. That sentence could have opened another conversation and he had no desire to chat, he just wanted to sit back and finish reading those last three damn pages. "Anyway, if you decide to stay, you'll see it for yourself, I don't want to ruin it," he said shortly. He had been sufficiently polite, had enough conversation and now was anxious to send him away to return to his book.
He turned to go and lower the windshield wipers so that he could leave, but for a long moment, he stared bewildered at the picture of the woman hanging from the lowered sun visor. Luke noticed it and hastened to pull it up, then the two peered at each other for an infinite moment.
It was the typical dead moment when one would like to ask a question, but at the same time he fears a question from the other, so neither of them makes the first move to not open things up.
"Can you recommend a good Motel?" Luke asked to break the awkward silence.
"Go ahead for five or six miles and you'll see the Spring sign. It's clean and well equipped, the food is good and its prices are honest."
"Well, thanks for everything. See you soon," Luke greeted him, shifting the gear. The attendant answered with an awkward hand gesture.
"... I know that I am a pain in the ass, a cynic and that I have a bad temper and I recognize that if you have organized all this to make me a joke I probably deserved it" the Coroner mumbled, "but I guarantee you that it is not funny at all. To get the reports and come here as soon as possible I had to raise hell, I antagonized the staff of the whole laboratory of analysis," he added, while Helen stared in shock at the empty beds she had taken from the cold room.
On the metal floors, there were only a few hairs and a few shreds of skin left, and she wasn't even sure that they had belonged to the bodies
