"Now, as you gentlemen and ladies can easily observe, I have a naked body on a metal slab behind me. The police, bless their hearts, found him very early this morning, I had the privilege of doing the site analysis at about 3:00 AM. Since our patient had absolutely no identification on him what-so-ever, we cannot contact his next of kin. The police then hauled his ass in here. Now, this John Doe is dead. Am I right?"
Twenty-five medical students nodded their heads.
Dr. Henrietta 'Hank' Slovensky shook hers.
"No, you overeducated macaroons, John Doe is Not dead. And do you know why he is Not dead? Because you haven't checked to make sure he's dead. You can Not look at a patient from across the room and tell if said patient has croaked or not. For crying out loud, if you saw the chief of staff asleep in his office would you immediately assume he was Dead? My goodness. Okay," Hank surveyed the group searching for the one she knew would faint at the sight of a blade inserted into the dead man's sternum. "You," she pointed at a pale-looking female with her long black hair tied up on top of her head and stuffed under a surgical cap. "Get your Ivy league butt over here and tell me what you see."
The long-haired medical student looked around to see if, by hope and chance, the medical examiner meant someone else, someone other than her.
"You!"
No, she didn't. The long-haired student shuffled slowly to the cadaver.
"What's your name?"
"J...J..Jennifer."
"Well, J, J, Jennifer, educate the rest of us over-achievers what you see on the slab this morning."
"Well, ah, er. I see a man." Jennifer said. She glanced at the man's face but couldn't look at him for long.
"Very good. So, we have a John Doe who, as Jennifer has aptly pointed out by examining his genitalia in detail, is male.. What else?"
"Hmm, his chest seems to be, uh, damaged."
"Ah, yes," Hank agreed. "The old damaged chest ploy. Jennifer, honey, if you ever want to get through this autopsy, and by ever I mean sometime in the next, oh, 28 minutes, you're going to have to speed up your examination. Gather round, my little ducklings, gather round. Now, as Jennifer as ascertained, our John Doe has a penis and a crushed chest cavity. What does that indicate? You," Hank pointed at a male student.
"He got hit by something heavy?"
"He did?" Hank questioned.
"I mean, uh, he might have gotten hit by something like heavy?"
"Is that a question, young man? Jennifer, was that a question? It sounded like a question. Voice raised at the end of a sentence, like, you know? Clear precise speech, ducklings, clear and precise speech, if you don't mind. As it turns out, our Mr. Doe met the steering wheel of his car."
"Excuse me, Dr. Slovensky?"
Hank turned to the questioner: a tall, blonde woman with the looks of a fashion model. She held a clipboard to her ample breasts; her hair was cropped short, almost like a man’s. Probably, Hank thought, to suggest studiousness instead of slutishness but only ending up looking dykish.
"Yes?" Hank asked.
"I, uh, I think I know this, uh, John Doe."
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Next: How Calvado Got Rich
