THIS WON'T HURT A BIT: The 1st Lenny Moss Mystery by Tim Sheard - $15.00
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CLICK BELOW TO READ THE FULL NEW YORK TIMES REVIEW OF "THIS WON'T HURT A BIT"
READ THE FIRST CHAPTER
PROLOGUE
Kate Palmer gripped the scalpel lightly in her right hand, as she would the bow of a violin. With the forefinger of her other hand, she traced the cadaver's anatomical landmarks from the crest of the hip diagonally to the groin. Even through the latex gloves, the wet, rubbery gray flesh felt cold.
Her lab partner, Jennifer Mason, stood watching from the other side of the black marble dissecting table. Theirs was one of sixteen tables laid out in neat rows, each with its own cadaver flanked by a pair of medical students. The lights of fluorescent ceiling lamps reflected off the moist surfaces of the corpses, and the air was filled with the pungent odor of formaldehyde and decay.
At another table a beefy, blond medical student with a surfer's tan called out, “Hey, look at the dingus on this guy - is that an implant or what?”
“I didn't think rigor mortis lasted this long,” a fellow at the next table rejoined, raising guffaws from several of the students in the dissecting lab.
Kate turned to the noisy table. “Letterly, couldn't you advertise your inadequacies somewhere else?” She stood five feet five in her running shoes, trim and graceful. Her short auburn hair framed a round face without make-up.
“Just doing a little comparative anatomy, love,” he replied. “You never can tell when-”
“Crack!”
The blow of a wooden pointer against a marble surface silenced the class. Aiming his stick at a word on the blackboard, Dr. Anton Praxis intoned, “You will recall that the relative location of the femoral nerve, artery and vein can be remembered by use of the mnemonic 'navel,' meaning: nerve, artery, vein, empty space and ligament. Bear in mind that the femoral nerve is lateral to the vasculature. That is, away from the midline.”
A wan, restless man with unkempt white hair and a drooping mustache, Praxis liked to prowl the classroom, gazing into the cavities of the bodies with the look of an animal that hunts, and pointing out flaws in the students’ work. As he continued, the class stood poised over the cadavers waiting for permission to use their scalpels.
“When you make the incision, be cautious. Do not bisect the structures with the knife. After making your incision, probe the wound with your finger, or the handle of the scalpel, if you are squeamish, and locate the underlying organs.”
The Professor paused to gaze disdainfully at the class as though looking at a lower form of life, then, with a little flourish of the hand, he said, “Begin.”
Kate stabbed the rubbery flesh with the pointed tip of the scalpel. Despite months of dissection, she was still surprised that the wound produced no blood, merely a trickle of clear fluid. Each cadaver’s bodily fluids had been drained and replaced with a clear preservative that filled the organs and blood vessels, keeping them plump and life-like.
Pressing firmly, she drew the blade across the groin, pried the wound open with her fingers, and peered into the opening, trying to recognize the layers of tissue.
Jennifer, tall and blonde, with raspberry red lips and a mouth that was born to pout, bent down to peer into the wound. “Gee, Kate, it looks like the meat in the back of my fridge.”
“Remind me not to have dinner at your place again.”
While Kate probed the wound searching for the femoral nerve, her partner looked over the body. “Boy, this guy's face really got mangled when he hit the windshield. I bet he didn't have an airbag.”
“Or wear his seat belt,” said Kate, glancing at the torso. “That circular mark and the 'X' on his chest is where he hit the steering wheel.”
She felt a long, stringy cord inside the wound. “Got ya! Femoral nerve! Pour some more cadaver juice over the wound, will you?”
Jennifer grimaced at the nauseating odor as she poured a mixture of saline and formaldehyde over the corpse's groin. “What a bummer we got stuck with the worst cadaver in the class.”
“They say Praxis hasn't given an 'A' to a woman student in ten years.”
“He’s has got to give it to you, Kate. You're tops in the class.”
“Don't count on it.” Kate pushed her finger deep into the wound searching for the artery.
Jennifer said, “After you finish the groin I guess I'll dissect the scrotum.” She held the shriveled sack and felt the testicles. “I wonder if he had a vasectomy. Let's see if there's a scar.”
Looking at the underside of the penis, Jennifer traced the cord from the sack up along the underside of the organ. There were three small, red birthmarks along the cord. She bent down to examine them. Suddenly she dropped the member, ripped off her latex gloves, and stepped away from the table, her face contorted in horror.
“Katie, I know that dick! I mean, I know that guy!”
“What’s that?” her partner asked.
A few students at nearby tables stopped their dissections to look over.
“I'm talking about the cadaver. I know who it is!”
Jennifer grasped the corpse's head and turned it to the side. “His face is deformed from the auto accident and his hair should be blonde, but I'm certain this is Randy Sparks, the third year medical resident.”
“The one who disappeared last December in the middle of his rotation?”
“Yup, that's the one. God! And we've been cutting him up!”
By now the entire class had ceased working and was staring at the two women.
Professor Praxis approached them.
“Is there a problem, ladies?”
Jennifer pointed at the cadaver. “Professor Praxis, this isn't an ordinary body. This is Randy Sparks, the resident who disappeared last month!”
Arching a single eyebrow, he glanced down at the cadaver, then turned his attention to the groin incision that Kate had made.
“Have you dissected to the femoral nerve, Miss Palmer?”
“Yes, sir.” She pointed to a slender filament running through the wound. “It's that gray string, isn't it?”
“Correct. Continue until you have exposed the artery and vein.”
As Praxis turned to a nearby table, Jennifer blurted out, “But, Doctor, shouldn't we, like, call the police or something?”
The Professor pulled a gold watch on a gold chain from his vest pocket, opened it to note the time. “There are thirty-six minutes of class time remaining. This man has been missing for-what did you say, a month? The police can wait another half-hour to find him.”
As he cast an imperious glance around the room, all heads bowed to their business on the tables.
Kate hesitated, torn between revulsion and a desire to find the vessels hiding in the wound. She glanced briefly at the body's battered face, gritted her teeth, and looked back at the groin. Taking a deep breath, she inserted her finger into the wound and resumed her probing.
“Honestly, Kate, I don't see how you can still work on him.”
“Praxis isn't keeping me out of the Honors Program. I'm going on with the dissection.”
Looking at the other tables, Jennifer saw Letterly wipe his brow on his sleeve, wink at her, and return to his dissection. She crossed to Kate's side of the table, leaned close to her partner and whispered, “Kate, what if somebody finds out I slept with Randy? It means I’ve been cutting up a man I had sex with!”
“So?”
“So? Why, it borders on necrophilia!”
“I don't know. Some guys would probably find it a turn on.”
“Letterly would, but he's a pig.”
As Kate cut deeper into the gray tissue, more fluid welled up in the wound, like water filling a footprint on the beach.
“Hey, I found the femoral artery, take a look,” she said, pointing to something that looked like a thin white worm running through the wound.
Jennifer glanced nervously at the wound. “I think I'm going to be sick,” she said.
Her finger deep inside the cadaver, Kate said, “Come on and probe the wound.”
Pulling on a latex glove, Jennifer pushed a finger into the opening. As she felt the sinewy formations in the wound, she whispered to her partner, “You realize, Kate, if this gets out it's going to destroy my love life.”
Kate Palmer gripped the scalpel lightly in her right hand, as she would the bow of a violin. With the forefinger of her other hand, she traced the cadaver's anatomical landmarks from the crest of the hip diagonally to the groin. Even through the latex gloves, the wet, rubbery gray flesh felt cold.
Her lab partner, Jennifer Mason, stood watching from the other side of the black marble dissecting table. Theirs was one of sixteen tables laid out in neat rows, each with its own cadaver flanked by a pair of medical students. The lights of fluorescent ceiling lamps reflected off the moist surfaces of the corpses, and the air was filled with the pungent odor of formaldehyde and decay.
At another table a beefy, blond medical student with a surfer's tan called out, “Hey, look at the dingus on this guy - is that an implant or what?”
“I didn't think rigor mortis lasted this long,” a fellow at the next table rejoined, raising guffaws from several of the students in the dissecting lab.
Kate turned to the noisy table. “Letterly, couldn't you advertise your inadequacies somewhere else?” She stood five feet five in her running shoes, trim and graceful. Her short auburn hair framed a round face without make-up.
“Just doing a little comparative anatomy, love,” he replied. “You never can tell when-”
“Crack!”
The blow of a wooden pointer against a marble surface silenced the class. Aiming his stick at a word on the blackboard, Dr. Anton Praxis intoned, “You will recall that the relative location of the femoral nerve, artery and vein can be remembered by use of the mnemonic 'navel,' meaning: nerve, artery, vein, empty space and ligament. Bear in mind that the femoral nerve is lateral to the vasculature. That is, away from the midline.”
A wan, restless man with unkempt white hair and a drooping mustache, Praxis liked to prowl the classroom, gazing into the cavities of the bodies with the look of an animal that hunts, and pointing out flaws in the students’ work. As he continued, the class stood poised over the cadavers waiting for permission to use their scalpels.
“When you make the incision, be cautious. Do not bisect the structures with the knife. After making your incision, probe the wound with your finger, or the handle of the scalpel, if you are squeamish, and locate the underlying organs.”
The Professor paused to gaze disdainfully at the class as though looking at a lower form of life, then, with a little flourish of the hand, he said, “Begin.”
Kate stabbed the rubbery flesh with the pointed tip of the scalpel. Despite months of dissection, she was still surprised that the wound produced no blood, merely a trickle of clear fluid. Each cadaver’s bodily fluids had been drained and replaced with a clear preservative that filled the organs and blood vessels, keeping them plump and life-like.
Pressing firmly, she drew the blade across the groin, pried the wound open with her fingers, and peered into the opening, trying to recognize the layers of tissue.
Jennifer, tall and blonde, with raspberry red lips and a mouth that was born to pout, bent down to peer into the wound. “Gee, Kate, it looks like the meat in the back of my fridge.”
“Remind me not to have dinner at your place again.”
While Kate probed the wound searching for the femoral nerve, her partner looked over the body. “Boy, this guy's face really got mangled when he hit the windshield. I bet he didn't have an airbag.”
“Or wear his seat belt,” said Kate, glancing at the torso. “That circular mark and the 'X' on his chest is where he hit the steering wheel.”
She felt a long, stringy cord inside the wound. “Got ya! Femoral nerve! Pour some more cadaver juice over the wound, will you?”
Jennifer grimaced at the nauseating odor as she poured a mixture of saline and formaldehyde over the corpse's groin. “What a bummer we got stuck with the worst cadaver in the class.”
“They say Praxis hasn't given an 'A' to a woman student in ten years.”
“He’s has got to give it to you, Kate. You're tops in the class.”
“Don't count on it.” Kate pushed her finger deep into the wound searching for the artery.
Jennifer said, “After you finish the groin I guess I'll dissect the scrotum.” She held the shriveled sack and felt the testicles. “I wonder if he had a vasectomy. Let's see if there's a scar.”
Looking at the underside of the penis, Jennifer traced the cord from the sack up along the underside of the organ. There were three small, red birthmarks along the cord. She bent down to examine them. Suddenly she dropped the member, ripped off her latex gloves, and stepped away from the table, her face contorted in horror.
“Katie, I know that dick! I mean, I know that guy!”
“What’s that?” her partner asked.
A few students at nearby tables stopped their dissections to look over.
“I'm talking about the cadaver. I know who it is!”
Jennifer grasped the corpse's head and turned it to the side. “His face is deformed from the auto accident and his hair should be blonde, but I'm certain this is Randy Sparks, the third year medical resident.”
“The one who disappeared last December in the middle of his rotation?”
“Yup, that's the one. God! And we've been cutting him up!”
By now the entire class had ceased working and was staring at the two women.
Professor Praxis approached them.
“Is there a problem, ladies?”
Jennifer pointed at the cadaver. “Professor Praxis, this isn't an ordinary body. This is Randy Sparks, the resident who disappeared last month!”
Arching a single eyebrow, he glanced down at the cadaver, then turned his attention to the groin incision that Kate had made.
“Have you dissected to the femoral nerve, Miss Palmer?”
“Yes, sir.” She pointed to a slender filament running through the wound. “It's that gray string, isn't it?”
“Correct. Continue until you have exposed the artery and vein.”
As Praxis turned to a nearby table, Jennifer blurted out, “But, Doctor, shouldn't we, like, call the police or something?”
The Professor pulled a gold watch on a gold chain from his vest pocket, opened it to note the time. “There are thirty-six minutes of class time remaining. This man has been missing for-what did you say, a month? The police can wait another half-hour to find him.”
As he cast an imperious glance around the room, all heads bowed to their business on the tables.
Kate hesitated, torn between revulsion and a desire to find the vessels hiding in the wound. She glanced briefly at the body's battered face, gritted her teeth, and looked back at the groin. Taking a deep breath, she inserted her finger into the wound and resumed her probing.
“Honestly, Kate, I don't see how you can still work on him.”
“Praxis isn't keeping me out of the Honors Program. I'm going on with the dissection.”
Looking at the other tables, Jennifer saw Letterly wipe his brow on his sleeve, wink at her, and return to his dissection. She crossed to Kate's side of the table, leaned close to her partner and whispered, “Kate, what if somebody finds out I slept with Randy? It means I’ve been cutting up a man I had sex with!”
“So?”
“So? Why, it borders on necrophilia!”
“I don't know. Some guys would probably find it a turn on.”
“Letterly would, but he's a pig.”
As Kate cut deeper into the gray tissue, more fluid welled up in the wound, like water filling a footprint on the beach.
“Hey, I found the femoral artery, take a look,” she said, pointing to something that looked like a thin white worm running through the wound.
Jennifer glanced nervously at the wound. “I think I'm going to be sick,” she said.
Her finger deep inside the cadaver, Kate said, “Come on and probe the wound.”
Pulling on a latex glove, Jennifer pushed a finger into the opening. As she felt the sinewy formations in the wound, she whispered to her partner, “You realize, Kate, if this gets out it's going to destroy my love life.”