When the Guilty Cry

by M J Lee

  Luckily, Oliver Davis was waiting for him in the lobby.

  ‘Did you bring the Vicks?’

  Sheepishly, the young detective produced a family-sized jar from his pocket.

  ‘Couldn’t you get anything smaller?’

  ‘It was all they had in the shop.’

  ‘Put a splodge beneath your nose. It’ll keep most of the smell out.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m used to it,’ he said with bravado. He dabbed his finger in the open jar anyway and smeared a splodge over his top lip.

  At that moment, a swing door opened and Dr Schofield appeared, dressed in his usual fetching outfit of bloodied apron, face mask and hairnet. ‘Come on through, Ridpath, we’ve already finished so we can give you the topline right away. You’d better get kitted out first though.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I asked a colleague from Liverpool for help on this one. Dr O’Casey is a forensic anthropologist, human skeletal remains are her speciality.’

  Ridpath thought for a moment of the person who spent their life examining decaying body parts. He imagined some wizened old academic crouched over a skeleton; amongst her students she would, no doubt, have the nickname Bones.

  He followed the doctor into a changing room, Oliver Davis close behind.

  Schofield indicated the row of fresh PPE garments folded on a shelf. ‘Find your size. I’ll be on Table Three. Do get a move on though, I have a reservation for dinner at El Gato Negro for seven and I’d like to go home and change into something warm as we’re sitting outside.’

  When the doctor had gone, Davis whispered. ‘How does he do it? Cuts up bodies all day and then goes out to eat in the evening.’

  ‘He once told me his favourite meal was liver and onions.’

  ‘With a glass of chianti on the side?’

  ‘Don’t take too long getting changed, I want to get back too,’ answered Ridpath, zipping up his PPE.

  Two minutes later, they entered the post-mortem room. Six stainless steel tables were arrayed along one wall. Above them, adjustable lights hovered, waiting to be switched on. The soft hum of an air conditioner was the only noise to disturb the two corpses lying on the tables.

  Dr Schofield was waiting for them at Table 3. Standing next to him was a young woman with the clearest blue eyes Ridpath had ever seen.

  ‘This is Dr O’Casey.’

  ‘Hi there, you must be the detectives on the case.’ She had a pure Dublin accent, as warm as the Liffey on a summer’s afternoon. ‘Interesting job here, not much to work with though.’

  Ridpath dragged himself away from the eyes and down to a line of three hands laid out in a row on a plastic mat in the centre of the stainless steel table.

  ‘This is DI Ridpath.’ Schofield pointed to the detective. ‘And the other is…?’

  ‘DC Davis,’ added the young detective. He reached forward to shake Dr O’Casey’s hand, realised she was holding a sharp scalpel and hurriedly recoiled.

  ‘You said you’ve already finished.’

  ‘Well, we’ve done as much as we can until the results come back from the lab, anyway,’ answered Schofield in his high voice. ‘Shall we begin?’

  Ridpath adjusted his mask. The smell of disinfectant with a top note of putrefaction was particularly strong today. Perhaps he should have borrowed more of Davis’s Vicks. He had bought enough to carry him through twenty years of post-mortems.

  ‘As you can see, we have in front of us three human hands. All three are right hands and have been rather crudely severed at the wrist, and the amputations were carried out post-mortem.’

  Davis wrote feverishly in his notebook. ‘So they come from three different bodies?’ he asked.

  The anthropologist’s eyebrows rose and Dr Schofield glanced across at Ridpath. ‘Well, unless there is a new human species with two right hands, that would appear to be the case.’

  The young detective coughed. ‘Sorry, it’s my first post-mortem, bit nervous.’

  ‘Let me make this clear,’ Ridpath interrupted, ‘the three hands came from people who were already dead?’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Dr Schofield grunted in reply and continued speaking. ‘Both Dr O’Casey and I believe we have a female hand and two male hands.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘From observation, one can see two of the hands are bigger than the third, with a heavier bone and finger structure. Work by Abdul Hagag and Soheir Mohamed in Egypt attempted to determine sex by hand dimensions and index finger length ratio. Using their indexes, I determined two of the hands were male and one female. There were also a couple of other giveaways.’ Dr O’Casey turned over one of the hands. ‘Under the microscope I could see traces of scarlet nail polish along the cuticle.’ A slight smile towards Davis. ‘Not unknown, but not common amongst men. The slender length of these fingers would suggest this is a woman. The other two hands are rougher in look and appearance. There is an absence of care about the cuticles and nails, particularly this one.’ She turned it over. ‘And please notice the calluses at the base of the fingers. This person did heavy manual work at one time in their life. Now, none of this is conclusive, but, taking all factors into account, I’m happy with my conclusion on the sex of the hands.’

  ‘What age do you think they are?’

  ‘The age of human hands is more difficult to ascertain, except in children under the age of eighteen. It would be easier if we had more to work with; the pubic symphysis is one of the most reliable areas of the skeleton for adult age estimation. Other methods include changes in the morphology of the auricular surface and the sternal rib end. But as we do not have the complete skeleton, only the hands…’

  This last sentence was delivered with a tone suggesting the lack of more bones to examine was the detectives’ fault.

  ‘…one needs to use one’s experience to come to any conclusion. Please remember, any estimation of the age of an adult hand is not an exact science, but mere guesswork.’

  Dr O’Casey walked across to a computer, the sound of her heels echoing on the sterile floor. Despite the entrancing blue eyes and the Dublin accent, Ridpath felt she had all the warmth of a white walker from Game of Thrones.

  ‘We took a plain posterior–anterior X-ray of each hand and wrist. As you may or may not know, the pattern of ossification in the hand and wrist bones proceeds in a fairly predictable manner up until the age of eighteen, when the elongation of the bones is complete. We can compare the level of maturation of hand and wrist bones with normal age levels using the GR Atlas.’

  She pressed a key and an X-ray of one of the hands appeared on the screen.

  ‘The female hand still shows growth plates between the carpals, indicating this belonged to a young girl aged between sixteen and seventeen years old. But remember, skeletal age and chronological age can be different.’

  ‘She’s young,’ said Oliver Davis.

  ‘She was very young,’ corrected Dr O’Casey. ‘The other two hands are more difficult to age. The larger male hand has indications of rheumatoid arthritis, here and here. There is also evidence of past trauma in this fracture of the index finger.’

  ‘Did this fracture happen at the time of death?’ asked Ridpath.

  ‘Definitely not. It is well healed. My estimate would be at least five or six years, and probably longer, before death. I would estimate this hand belonged to a male aged between fifty and sixty. But absent of more of the skeleton, I couldn’t swear to it in court.’

  She paused for a second to see if there were any other questions. When there weren’t, she pressed a key on the computer and a third X-ray appeared. ‘The second male hand displays little or no arthritis and has no fractures or distinguishing marks. Again, estimation is difficult, but I would say it was younger, between thirty and forty years old.’

  Ridpath nodded. ‘Thank you. So we’re looking for a girl and two older males, one who has arthritis and has had a fractured index finger in the past?’

  �
��Correct, DI Ridpath.’ There was a slight tone of surprise in Dr O’Casey’s voice. ‘An accurate summary.’

  He turned to the pathologist. ‘You said the hands were severed at the wrist, Dr Schofield. How were they cut from the body?’

  ‘I’ll defer to my colleague again, if I may. Filomena, can you take them through it?’ He nodded his head towards Dr O’Casey.

  ‘In addition to X-rays we used PMCT to analyse the hands—’

  ‘PMCT?’ asked Davis.

  ‘Post-mortem computed tomography. In the simplest of terms, a CT scan can reveal anatomic details of internal organs that cannot be seen in conventional X-rays. The tomograms, or slices, can be created as thin as one millimetre and seen as 3D images, like this.’ She pressed another key and a blue image of a human hand appeared on screen. ‘We can revolve the image and take measurements across each plane.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Davis.

  ‘It is rather amazing, isn’t it?’ For the first time, Dr O’Casey displayed something approaching humanity, but quickly recovered. ‘As you can now see, we are looking at a section through the scaphoid where it was severed from the hand and the bones of the radius. You see the residual cross-section striation?’

  She pointed to the screen, but Ridpath could only see it was a little less blue than the surrounding area.

  ‘If I zoom in, we will be able to get a closer view.’

  She tickled a few keys and the image became bigger. ‘See, there are saw marks in the bone. We measured the gap between the teeth and concluded the bone was severed using a superfine hacksaw, similar to this.’ A picture of a small hacksaw appeared on the screen. ‘Unfortunately, this a common or garden tool, available at any B&Q or hardware store. It has thirty to thirty-two dents or teeth per inch and, in this case, the teeth were set in a zigzag or wave pattern.’

  ‘Did the perp have any medical knowledge?’ asked Ridpath.

  ‘I don’t think so. See here.’ She pointed to the hand on the screen again. ‘Hesitation cut marks. This perpetrator attempted to start at least twice before going through with the amputation. The work was done with little skill – this person was not a surgeon, more of a butcher.’

  ‘You think that was his profession?’ asked Davis.

  Dr O’Casey eyebrows raised again. ‘It was a figure of speech, Detective. I was merely pointing out the hands were severed roughly and without finesse.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He scribbled in his notebook.

  ‘Shall I continue, Ridpath?’

  ‘Be my guest, Doctor.’

  ‘As I was saying, the hands have been severed from the arm roughly. This act was performed approximately twenty-four hours after the time of death for the male hands and forty-eight hours for the female one.’

  Davis was about to ask another question, received a withering look from the forensic anthropologist and wisely decided to continue taking notes.

  ‘I have ascertained this through the level of putrefaction of the hand. As you may well remember, there are five stages of decay for any body; initial breakdown, bloating, active decay, advanced decay and dry remains.’

  She pressed another key and a drawing of a hand appeared. ‘This is a visual representation of the appearance of the stages of decay, with each finger drawn as one of the stages.’ She pointed to the index finger, which was labelled ‘bloating’. ‘During initial breakdown, muscular tissues become rigid and the blood pools into the lower extremities. As the bacteria in the intestines devour the intestinal walls, cells lose their structural integrity and cellular enzymes are released. Microbes also start breaking down carbohydrates, proteins, and lipids. Most of this breakdown occurs inside the body and is not visible from the outside. At the end of this stage, blowflies and flesh flies arrive to lay eggs.’

  Dr O’Casey stopped speaking for a second. In the silence, the only sounds were the scratching of Davis’s pen across the paper and the constant hum of the air conditioning.

  ‘This cellular breakdown causes the greenish tinge along the edges of the fingernails and cuticles, as well as the pasty, almost cream alabaster colour of the skin.’ She pointed to the nails and the skin tone of the hands lying on the stainless steel table. ‘Now, the speed of decomposition depends on several factors: surrounding temperature, whether the body is buried or exposed to air or water, and the number of bacteria present. Looking at these male hands, the process of bloating has begun, but it isn’t at an advanced stage. The skin hasn’t started to slip or split. And there are fly eggs present but they haven’t yet hatched into maggots…’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, the hand was probably kept in a sealed area rather than in the open air. A sealed area where flies still managed to enter. There is more skin slippage on the female hand, plus the fly eggs are more advanced in development. I thus conclude this hand was severed later, around forty-eight hours after death. But please don’t quote me, it is an approximation based on the available science. Without knowing where the hands were severed and kept, it will remain an approximation.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Doctor. If these hands were severed, wouldn’t they have continued to decay, even away from the body?’

  ‘Well spotted, Ridpath, it’s the first thing I noticed,’ said Schofield.

  ‘I don’t understand. How come they haven’t decayed after separation from the body?’

  ‘Somebody actively intervened to prevent decay.’ Dr Schofield removed his mask and bent close to one of the hands. ‘I used the old sniff test, and it’s definitely there.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The strong scent of formaldehyde, probably formalin.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Smell for yourself?’

  ‘I’ll pass, Doctor.’

  Schofield indicated for Davis to come forward. He immediately shook his head and resumed taking notes.

  ‘Please yourself. Somebody has embalmed these hands.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Davis.

  The doctor repeated himself, emphasising each separate word. ‘Somebody… has… embalmed… these… hands.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘How have these hands have been preserved?’ asked Ridpath frowning.

  ‘Probably by placing them in a sealed jar with the embalming fluid. Think of a museum or a lab keeping a specimen.’

  For a second, Ridpath remembered what Turnbull has said about medical students. Was this a university prank by somebody with a perverse sense of humour? ‘Somebody placed these hands in jars?’

  ‘That’s what I said, Ridpath. It means they have been preserved as they were when they were severed from the arm. I’ve sent some samples to the lab for testing. We should know the composition of the embalming liquid soon.’

  ‘How does that help?’ asked Ridpath.

  ‘Each company produces embalming fluids with different levels of formaldehyde, glutaraldehyde, phenol and methanol,’ Dr O’Casey interrupted. It was almost as if the two pathologists were competing with each other to provide information.

  ‘Interestingly, the EU voted to restrict the use of formaldehyde by funeral directors for embalming in 2018, but there was a delay in the introduction of the legislation to allow them to find alternatives until 2023. As we have now left the EU, nobody has a clue whether this legislation will ever be introduced.’

  ‘Why was it banned?’

  ‘Strictly speaking, it wasn’t banned,’ said Schofield, ‘its use was restricted because studies had shown prolonged exposure was linked to nasopharyngeal cancer.’

  ‘It causes cancer and you asked me to smell it,’ said Oliver Davis.

  ‘A single exposure is not likely to cause any harm, Detective.’

  ‘Unlikely?’

  Ridpath brought them back on track. ‘If we know the composition, we can find out where the embalming fluid came from?’

  ‘Correct, Ridpath. There are also different levels of saturation of the embalming liquid in each hand. The two male ones seem to have far less than the female
hand.’

  ‘Does that suggest the person who severed the hands was an undertaker, mortuary attendant or maybe a scientist?’

  ‘Not necessarily. These days many people have access to embalming fluid, all the components can be bought on the internet.’

  ‘My dad buys embalming fluid,’ said Davis.

  All the other people in the morgue stared at him.

  ‘What? He stuffs animals. It’s his hobby.’

  ‘I would keep that quiet in the station, if I were you, DC Davis. Anything else, Doctor?’

  ‘A couple of things. Because of the use of embalming fluid, I have no way of knowing when these hands were severed.’ Dr O’Casey spoke again.

  ‘So they could be two, twenty, or two hundred years old?’

  ‘Probably not the latter,’ said O’Casey.

  ‘Why?’

  She tapped the computer keyboard again, bringing up the X-ray of the male hand. ‘See the white circles on the proximal phalange on the index finger.’

  ‘Sorry, where?’

  She held up her own hand to show him. The fingers, despite being sheathed in a glove, were long and surprisingly elegant. ‘Here. They indicate a plate was placed to help support what must have been a bad fracture. The plate was later removed, however. Looking at the hand, the scar is small, with flap surgery by a plastic surgeon used to give the hand a near normal appearance, indicating for me that the surgery was performed in the last twenty years or so, certainly no later.’

  ‘From roughly the year 2000 onwards?’

  ‘Correct. I don’t think it would have been done earlier. Probably in the last ten years or so.’

  ‘So our older man had surgery recently. Interesting. What about DNA and fingerprints?’

  ‘Until a few years ago, it was difficult to extract DNA from embalmed specimens. Its recovery is often severely compromised by the presence of formalin. But can you imagine the research possibilities if scientists could extract DNA from mummies or from embalmed specimens held in old laboratories?’