The elevator doors whisper open and I step into a hushed tiled hall. I pass a yellow and black biohazard sign and a plaque that reads: Morgue Authorized Personnel. At the end of the hall, I push open dual swinging doors and find myself in yet another hall. A middle-aged woman in a red power suit looks up from her computer when I enter. “Chief Burkholder?”

“Yes.” I extend my hand and we shake.

“Doc Coblentz is expecting you.”

The nameplate on her desk tells me her name is Carmen Anderson. “You must be his new assistant.”

“I’m part of the new budget. Started last Tuesday.”

I glance toward the door that will take me to the morgue foyer. “Hell of a way to start your first week.”

“Doc says it’s the first time he’s had a full house since that semi hit that family out on the highway three years ago.” She grimaces. “You guys know who did it yet?”

“We’re working on it.” I motion toward the door. “Is the tech still here?”

“Oh, yeah.” She smiles. “Cute kid. He ought to be on soaps instead of hanging out with a bunch of dead people.”

I feel a tad more upbeat as I go through the swinging doors. The autopsy room is straight ahead. To my right is a small alcove where the doc stores supplies, including biohazard protection. To my left, I see Doc Coblentz’s glassed-in office. As usual, the mini-blinds are open. He’s sitting at his desk. A young man wearing lavender scrubs sits in the visitor chair jotting notes on a chart. Both men look up as I cross to the office door.

Rising, Doc Coblentz extends his hand. “Chief Burkholder.”

The technician stands. The receptionist is right; he’s cute. And he looks young enough to be in high school. Or maybe I’m just getting older. “I’m Dr. Rohrbacher,” he says.

“You look too young to be a doctor,” I comment.

“I get that a lot.” He offers a Whitestrip smile. “I always tell people I began my residency when I was fourteen.”

“The real Doogie Howser.” I smile back, but it feels stiff on my face. My mind has already strayed to the dead family in the next room and the chore ahead. “You guys have anything for me?”

“We’ve completed two of the autopsies.” Rising, Doc Coblentz motions toward the hall. “You know the drill.”

I go directly to the alcove and don the requisite disposable shoe covers, a blue gown, hair cap, and latex gloves. The men, gowned, gloved and capped, are waiting for me when I emerge.

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Doc Coblentz says as we move down the hall. “We finally got budget approved for fresh paint.”

At the end of the hall, I notice the stepladder, drop cloth and institutional blue paint. “I like the blue better than the gray,” I say.