The Perfect Crime

Sure, he had some resentments in his life. Many of his medical school colleagues had made millions as they approached their retirement. Still, his life as a pathologist in a major city was pretty good. Unlike his friends who railed against insurance companies, regulations, patient complaints and lawsuits- he had none of that. Still, he didn’t make the big bucks his surgeon friends made. His retirement net worth was only five million or so, but it was enough to manage a fairly comfortable life. 

For years Michael stood in his white jacket as he admonished many of the corpses for their carelessness in life. Many of his patients were criminals who simply did stupid things and hastened their own death in their careless behavior. He had long discussions with them as he removed organs, placing them in bowls. He performed autopsies on many criminals. He admonished them and reminded them they deserved this outcome. He lectured them on how they could have survived to enjoy their money. He even entertained the thought of writing a book about the perfect crime. 

Now, Michael was about to put his crime knowledge to work. He would commit the perfect crime and live to enjoy his profits. He stood before Lawrence, stretched out and naked. “OK, Lawrence, you ran into some bad luck”. There was a terrible crash. A trailer truck flipped over on a Long Island interstate crushing Lawrence’s car and killing him instantly. The bad luck was compounded by Michael’s discovery in the stomach contents. Nestled in with the lasagna and chianti were several very large diamonds. Apparently ingested on a business trip to Europe, old Lawrence was doing some smuggling. 

Michael surmised after a quick check of his patient’s history that this successful businessman was supplementing his lucrative foreign auto dealership profits with a gem smuggling operation. His monthly visits to European auto companies was the perfect cover. Michael looked him in the eye and said, “Lawrence, you’ve been a very bad boy. You were only 5 or 6 years away from retirement and you got too greedy”. He added, “Your bad luck is my good luck”. 

After a brief discussion with himself he decided, “You’re right. The safest place to put these gems is on your person”. It was a simple, small incision. Michael stored the gems in the soft tissue of his left thigh. If anyone asked, it would be an accident at work, a careless slip of the blade. Michael reasoned Lawrence would be gone soon. He would be cremated in a few days and nobody would argue about the cause of death- his heart and lungs were crushed in the accident- he died instantly. Even Lawrence’s family would assume that Lawrence made his fortune in cars. Lawrence was bright and wealthy even without the diamonds. Michael reasoned that Lawrence was involved in a solo operation. 

As Michael made his oral notes while he weighed and returned the various organs to the shell of the former Lawrence, Michael developed Lawrence’s history as he talked it out with himself in the confines of his private domain- “He probably preferred to use himself as the “mule” in his smuggling. He would keep the operation small and minimize the risk of others’ mistakes”. As some doubt about the plan emerged into his consciousness. Michael retorted, “Even if his customers were looking for the diamonds, what could they do about it? They couldn’t go to the police and tell them someone stole their smuggled gems”. He laughed at the thought. 

Three year later …

Michael awoke with a massive headache. He wondered if he drank too much. Elaine noticed him stirring. She gently stroked his cheek and said in a sultry, low voice “You slept longer than I expected”. Puzzled, Michael’s eyes slowly opened. Her image was blurry but gradually sharpened. She went on- “It’s nothing personal. It’s just business”. Michael struggled to rise as his heart began to race.  

Elaine was beautiful. She was twenty plus years younger than Michael, but in excellent physical shape, she looked even younger. Her body was thin and muscular. Her breasts, hips and lips all were perfect- without any obvious alterations. Michael mumbled, “What do you mean- it’s just business?”.

Michael had recently met Elaine accidentally at a bar in St. Martin. As fellow pathologists they had much in common as they shared and laughed together walking the beach daily. But the “It’s just business” comment hit him like a slap across the face. Elaine smiled, brushed her hair  back and said “As a professional courtesy I wanted you to be aware of everything. I wanted you to hear the whole story. I actually admire your work and your ambition”. 

She went on, “You see Michael, you made the mistake of assuming Lawrence was alone in his little business scheme”. She lifted her glass of $400 Chardonnay. She explained “My agency paid Lawrence well. He was a high end mule, well above suspicion. He was excellent at his job. He was very careful but he ran into some bad luck”. 

Michael lowered his hand to his incision spot, now bandaged. He accepted Elaine’s offer of a sip of the chardonnay. He whispered. “What happened to the gems?” Elaine let out a hearty laugh, incongruous with her diminutive stature.  “Why Michael, you still don’t get it. They are already in the right hands. We watched you for three years. I got the call to check you out shortly after you arrived in your newly rented villa”. She retrieved the chardonnay and took a big gulp. “You were an easy mark. I told them about your scar and my theory that if I were you, that’s where the diamonds would be”, pointing to the scar on his thigh.”. She went on-“You were too greedy and you will have to pay the price. That’s just business’.

Michael accepted a second sip of wine. Though he knew the answer, he asked “And what will you do with me?” She responded with a quiet, sad voice as Michaelsl’s eyes slowly shut- “Why Michael- it’s already done”.

The death certificate read “massive cardiovascular infarction with superficial laceration related to work related injury”.