“Why? Her husband did it. What on earth can he be investigating?” Val began to lose interest and looked back at the dead man on the table, his face oddly contorted now that he was missing his upper jaw.

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Can you talk to him now or should I tell him to come back later?”

“I might as well do it now and get it over with.” She pointed to the jawless man. “He can wait.” Val went to the sink, pulled off her gloves and washed her hands. That was about as far as her cleaning up was going to go. She glanced in the mirror hanging over the sink, thinking how disheveled she looked with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and no makeup on. Her scrubs had several stains on them, making her wonder not only how they got there, but also what they were.

Gwen walked over to the side of the sink and stood against the wall. “There’s a great band playing downtown tomorrow night at this bar in Allentown called Nietzsche’s. We should go. Howie’s on call and we’re both off. The music’s kind of alternative but I read good reviews about them. The bar’s supposed to be a good place to meet men too. Good music and men. The way I see it, it’s a win-win situation. You are single, right?”

Val just nodded, hoping Gwen would move on to a different topic. Val really liked the idea of going to Nietzsche’s. She hadn’t been there in years and ached to get back into socializing, seeing a band. Seeing people. But knew she had to say no to Gwen. Again.

This wasn’t the first time Gwen asked to do something outside of work. In just the last couple of days, she had been bombarded with offers. Val came up with excuse after excuse not to go anywhere with her and quite frankly, was running out of good-sounding reasons. The last thing she wanted to do was socialize with Gwen Carmondy. Val had to admit that she liked her. So, nothing personal. Val simply shuddered at the thought of possibly being asked the one question she dreaded the most, the one that could get her fired… “So how did you know Oliver Solaris?”

Thankfully, Gwen did move on. “Oh, by the way, the detective is British. Love his accent, but his face…”

“What’s wrong with his face?” Val asked as she wiped her hands.

“Well, it’s just that…” Gwen hesitated. “It’s just that he might have been in an accident, so don’t stare at him.”

Val threw the paper towel in the garbage and reached for a second one, wiping them vigorously another time, not even realizing her hands were dry as she quickly grew irritated by Gwen’s remark.