Blogtober 2023
Within the next hour, the narrow county road was reduced to one lane as a variety of emergency vehicles arrived for their various duties. Among them was a black hearse from Whiteley Brothers Funeral Home.
Charley Whiteley was the county coroner, but he served that role in name only. All the real work was done by his granddaughter Nicole, who was literally born into the family business and had worked there since junior high.
All the officers called her “Wednesday” behind her back, as her long black hair, dark wardrobe, and deadpan expression bore a striking resemblance to the various cinematic incarnations of the Addams Family daughter.
“Can I come straight down?” she called to Clarkton.
“Go ahead,” he replied. “We’ve casted the tire tracks.”
She began to examine Tippen’s body, carefully flexing his fingers and hands.
“He’s in full rigor,” she said. “He’s been dead since last night at least. Help me take him out.”
The gathered officers removed Tippen’s body and laid him on the ground. Nicole knelt beside him and inserted a sharp thermometer into his liver. She waited for a beep that never came.
Nicole checked the daytime temperature on her cell phone. Her weather app informed her it was 62 degrees.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. “His body temperature reads 50 degrees. That’s too cold. Let me check the thermometer.”
She removed the silver probe and stared wide-eyed at the thick black substance clinging to it.
“Detective Clarkton,” she said. “This isn’t blood.”
Photo credit Adobe Stock #440793859
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