Conversation · Working Class Corpse

A man lies on the boardwalk, his limbs bent and neck turned at an unnatural angle. Right next to him is an empty bottle of spirits. In his cramped hand: a chewing gum wrapper.

"Hold on..." The lieutenant leans over the corpse and examines his face. Two glassy eyes stare back at him, void of any signs of life.

"Looks like he's been dead for a while. I'm surprised no one found him before you came along." He stands up and shivers as a gust of wind blows through his bomber jacket.

"What do you think happened here?"

"Death by misadventure. He slipped and fell through the boardwalk. A truly unfortunate accident... If it wouldn't have been for that bench, he'd be alive."

"Could it be related to the lynching?"

"No, I don't see anything that points in that direction. For now let's treat this case as a simple -- albeit sad -- accident, unrelated to the murder case."

Yes, but what if there's a killer on the loose? Two suspicious deaths in such a short time frame!

"You're right, connecting it with the lynching is a stretch."

"Without any further evidence -- yes."

"We should consider the possibility that we're dealing with a sequence killer here."

"A sequence killer?" The lieutenant narrows his eyes in the wind. "There's nothing that connects those two bodies. This is a completely different case -- an accident."

What if all of this is staged? He could have seen something that night in the yard...

"What if he witnessed something? All of this could be staged. We don't know the exact cause of death."

"It's possible, but let's take it step-by-step. We still haven't identified the man."

"I'm just saying that we should be open to all possibilities."

"Yes, but... I just wanted to make it clear it's not a sequence killer, okay?"

"Someone could have pushed him from behind with an intention to kill."

Agreed. If this somehow converges later, why not. But keep it simple for now.

"Right." (Conclude.)

"It does seem to be a pretty straightforward misadventure, although there's still the question of identifying the body..."

"Someone should be held responsible for this broken boardwalk. It's dangerous."

"They'll seal this place off after the news reaches the Coalition officials. I doubt that they have enough resources to actually repair the boardwalk."

"Not that sealing it off would keep anyone away. All it does is keep the city council's hands clean." He smiles sourly.

"Do you think he was drunk?" (Point at the bottle.)

"Oh yes," the lieutenant nods.

"What about alcohol poisoning and liver failure?"

"Some symptoms of acute alcohol poisoning could have definitely played a role here: severe confusion, respiratory depression, unpredictable behaviour..."

"But I think that death arrived through head trauma, not liver failure."

"What about the kebab?"

"What about it? The deceased ate some kebab." He shrugs. "It's probably from a nearby place, maybe in the Pox..."

Sometimes a kebab is just a kebab.

"Who is this man?"

"Looks like one of the locals -- he'd have to know this spot to come here. You don't just walk over here." He looks south, the way you came.

"But that's just a lazy assumption. What do you think?"

A dead working class man with a bottle in his hand? Don't deceive yourself, you know who this is.

"We know who this is. It's the working class woman's missing husband -- dead on the boardwalk."

"The woman you met at the bookstand?" He looks at the bundle of flesh and rags lying on the ground. "Why do you think it's her husband?"

Because it's the most working class death you've ever seen.

"The library card! He was supposed to return a book."

"I can't see a book..." The lieutenant pats his pockets. "So he took the book to the library, then came back and thought -- I'll have one."

I'll have one drink before I get home.

Just one drink. I have my cool jacket on. I took the book to the library. I've earned it.

The view from the lookout is beautiful...

"Damn it... He's definitely someone's husband." The lieutenant points at the golden ring on the man's left hand, the flesh around it swollen and pale.

"The leather jacket." (Point at the man's clothes.) "It matches her description perfectly."

"The bright blue lining?" He nods, then points at the ring on the man's left hand: "Well, he's definitely someone's husband."

"Bottles, all around him." (Point at the tare.) "She said he was drinking somewhere in Martinaise."

"Well, he's definitely someone's husband." The lieutenant points at the golden ring on the man's left hand, the flesh around it swollen and pale.

"This is the most working class way to go -- completely alienated and forgotten."

"Yes, yes," the lieutenant seems impatient, "but what actual facts do you have that connect him with this woman you met at the bookstand?"

At least this man knew how to party! Imagine the same scene without the bottle -- now that would be just sad.

This is an omen, a sign from above -- that you need to stop drinking.

"Looks like just another old drunkard to me."

"And he was married." The lieutenant points at the ring on the man's left hand, the flesh around it swollen and grey.

"But let's try to not run ahead -- for now all we know is that he's an unidentified middle-aged man found dead on the Martinaise boardwalk."

"What we're witnessing here is a demise of a great party beast. That leather jacket, an empty vodka bottle..." (Kiss your fingers.)

"The wedding ring." The lieutenant points at the ring on the man's left hand, the flesh around it swollen and grey.

"I think labelling him as an alcoholic is a bit premature. We don't know anything yet."

"We do know that he was married." The lieutenant points at the ring on the man's left hand, the flesh around it swollen and grey.