Close Pursuit

by Carsten Stroud

  Marcuse adjusted the overhead microphone. A certain heaviness descended upon him, bowing his shoulders slightly and slowing his movements.

  “Well, I am Charles Marcuse, forensic pathologist for the City of New York, office of the Medical Examiner. We will conduct a post-mortem examination on the body of an unidentified male …” Here he raised an eyebrow at Kennedy. Kennedy shook his head. Although he was fairly sure that the boy was “Salto” Ruiz, he had not yet obtained a positive ID from a family member. He had considered asking a sergeant from the 8th to go over to Mrs. Ruiz’s flat in the Riis Project, but there was something in the schoolboy photo that made him want to handle the thing personally. He was going over there as soon as the autopsy was completed. Privately, Kennedy had no doubt the body was “Salto” Ruiz.

  Marcuse gave the time and the date, and the location of the autopsy. Dropping into the formal jargon of the forensic pathologist, he commenced a description of the body before him.

  “We have an unidentified male Caucasian, approximately fourteen to nineteen years of age, height five feet seven inches. Weight one hundred thirty-three pounds. The body is clothed in worn black running shoes, without socks, a pair of tan army-surplus-style pants secured at the cuffs by two yellow elastic bands. Subject shows an abrasion in the right knee area, visible through a rent in the fabric. Pants are secured by a military belt. Subject is also seen to be wearing a purple T-shirt. No other jewelry or tags are visible so far. Subject bears case tag number 115/67/85 and the attending investigator is Detective Edward Xavier Kennedy of the Midtown Central Detective Area Task Force, shield number four-two-four-seven. Assisting with me is Attendant Mervyn Polk. We will begin by removing the subject’s clothing.”

  Marcuse and Mervyn spent a few minutes removing the outer clothing from the body. This was done as methodically as possible, without slicing or ripping any of it. Kennedy asked Mervyn to take some scrapings from the soles of the running shoes. While he was doing this, Kennedy saw that a few granules of a dark-brown material were trapped in the folds of the pants where they were held by the elastic bands. Mervyn used a pair of tweezers to secure one of the grains, which he then dropped into a white paper envelope. He delivered as many of these particles to Kennedy as he could secure. Kennedy marked the paper envelopes, in order, with the code prefix K116. Kennedy’s Task Force had been assigned to investigate 115 murders so far this year. Kennedy used a simple numerical order to keep track of them, starting with number one at the first of January. He set the envelopes aside and went back to the table.

  Mervyn took each article of clothing as it was removed and laid it out on a parallel table in the same position that it had occupied on the body. The shoes went at the foot, then the yellow elastics. The pants came off with difficulty, since some of the fecal matter had dried to the interior. Mervyn used a sterile stainless trowel to obtain as much of the fecal matter as possible. It was placed in a plastic container, sealed, and handed to Kennedy to mark.

  The boy’s underwear was still fairly damp. Mervyn took swabs and additional samples from the underwear and then set them apart to air-dry, in order to prevent any rot or additional damage to the fibers. The T-shirt came off easily except at the area of the collarbone, where much of the blood had dried to the material. The shirt was placed above the pants, and photographs were taken of each article and each step in the process. Marcuse kept up a casual but accurate description as they went along.

  When the body was fully stripped, Mervyn took X-rays of it from several aspects. Marcuse and Mervyn then swabbed the body down as gently as possible, removing as much of the matted blood and foreign matter as they could without damaging the skin or the tissues exposed. Samples were obtained by swabs or by scrapings of the clotted blood, the gunpowder residue, and the stippling now visible around the bullet entry wound in the right temple, and from the edges of the long incision in the neck.

  Kennedy stepped in closer to watch the swabs taken from the bullet wound. “Close, but not a contact wound?”

  Marcuse shook his head. “No. You see the burns and the stippling. But there’s no muzzle print, and in hard-tissue area like this you’d expect to see the characteristic star-shaped wound. But it was no more than a few inches away, and I’d say it was a large-caliber wound.”

  “At least a thirty-eight?” Kennedy thought so himself.

  “At least.”

  The gentle cleaning continued. Bits of grit and small clots of blood were deposited in the sinks or, when Kennedy or Marcuse thought they might be worth keeping, in a growing collection of vials and containers on a side table. Marcuse was working around the rear of the head now.

  “Aahh! Eddie, look at this.”

  Kennedy had already seen it. “Exit wound?”

  After the blood and debris had been swabbed and sponged away, a large ragged opening could be seen in the rear portion of the boy’s skull, just behind and below his left ear. Blood, skin, shards of skull bone, and oddments of flesh were visible, as well as pulpy segments of pinkish-gray brain matter. Marcuse took a track probe out of his tray and prodded the opening and the skin in the area.

  “No fragments that I can see. We’ll look more carefully later. Let’s get this done.”

  Marcuse went over the body in silence, closely examining every aspect of the limbs, the chest, and the head. After a period of no more than five minutes, he straightened up and summarized for the tape.

  “We have a normal adolescent male body with no congenital malformations visible. Eyes and conjunctiva appear normal, although ruptures and occlusion are evident in the right orb. Ears and nose appear normal, with some evidence of hemorrhage in the canals. Natural teeth are in fair condition. There is a well-healed scar two centimeters long on the right side at the front, and a vertical incision made with a single cut appears in the right portion of the neck, extending from the right ear to within three centimeters of the right clavicle, exposing sections of the right common carotid. There are no hesitation cuts visible in this region. Nine other recent incisions or penetrating wounds are visible on the digits. There is considerable post-mortem lividity present over the face and upper thoracic region. We find a large-diameter entrance wound with evidence of gunpowder residue and stippling in the region of the right temple, probably resulting from a large-caliber bullet. There is an apparent exit wound in the posterior left-hand region of the skull below and slightly to the posterior of the ear. Extensive tissue and skull fragmentation is evident and particles of the dura are visible. We observe a tattoo in a teardrop shape just beneath the left eye.

  “On the left upper limb there is a well-healed linear scar one centimeter long in the left ante-cubital fossa and evidence of a recent needle mark in this same left ante-cubital fossa.”

  Marcuse droned on in this steady, almost rhythmic manner, detailing the external characteristics of the body. When he returned to synopsize the face and head regions, he referred again to the two injuries evident. He also found minor surface abrasions on the chest, both elbows, the left knee, and in the hollow of the Achilles tendon.

  Kennedy noted the knee abrasions, and placed a red line under the observation that there was a recent needle mark in the boy’s left arm.

  Marcuse completed his summary of the external aspects of the body before him by directing Mervyn to take clippings and scrapings from the finger- and toenails of the corpse. Kennedy, bearing in mind the possibility of Marielito drug connections, asked Marcuse to secure combings of pubic hair, additional blood samples for toxicologic examinations, as well as an anal swab. Some Marielito gangs made it a point to sodomize their victims. It was a trademark in the South Bronx. Bodies had been found propped up in that position, nude, and violently raped at or near the moment of their deaths. Kennedy wanted to know if this boy had been sexually assaulted.

  The side-table collection was growing. Kennedy spent a few moments taping and marking various samples. Marcuse reached for his scalpel and Kennedy went for a glass of water. Marcuse laughed.
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br />   “Still time for snackies, Eddie. No? Too bad.”

  Kennedy came back with a glass of water, stepped a little away from the table, and took a breath. This part was never easy.

  Kennedy took out the school photo and held it close to the face of the corpse. The dead boy was “Salto” Ruiz.

  Marcuse made what is called a coronal mastoid incision in the boy’s scalp, cutting a deep track, in one practiced motion, from a point just above the left ear all the way around to the right ear. The scalp on the forward portion of the skull was visibly loosened by this stroke. The pathologist then peeled the anterior portion of the scalp off and forward over the brow, exposing the pink marble of the skull. This was examined for fractures or other signs of violence. He then cut and pushed the thick scalp back from this region, shoving it forward until it completely covered the face, and down at the back until it folded around the ears. The crest of the skull itself was now fully exposed.

  The M.E. used a small electric saw to cut into the bone, moving from right to left until he reached the midpoint of the forehead. He cut down toward the brow here for about an inch, then moved left again, came back up a half-inch, and completed his cut at the right temple.

  He made three more angular cuts into the skull until he was able to remove an entire section. It came away with some difficulty, making a sucking liquid noise that was, for Kennedy, about the worst moment of the afternoon. He was in the habit of looking at his watch at this moment. He did today, and was shocked to see that it was only 1307 hours. Just a little after one o’clock in the afternoon. It was turning into a very long day.

  “What’s the zigzag for, Charlie?”

  Kennedy knew what the peculiar skull cut was for, but feeding straight lines to Charlie Marcuse was one way to get through a day like this.

  Marcuse looked over his glasses at Mervyn, who returned the look without smiling.

  “Twist-caps, Eddie. It was Mervyn’s idea. If it works out we’re going to suggest the idea to the brewers. What do you think?”

  The cut assisted in the exact replacement of the skull cap after the autopsy, and it was Marcuse’s way of making sure that the right skull pieces got back together. Worse things had happened in the M.E.’s office.

  The M.E. set the calvarium aside. The brain was mottled and red under the lights.

  “Hemorrhaged. Not surprising. Lot of trauma here.”

  A series of color photos were taken at this point. Then Marcuse used a scalpel to slice away the connections and arteries that held the brain in the cavity. In less than forty seconds he held the brain in his hands.

  “Extensive injuries. Bullet track. Bloody ruin, this is. Mervyn, get me two sections. Other than the trauma, it looks to be a normal brain. You can see the bullet track clearly. Eddie, look at this.”

  Marcuse held the bloody object, rather like a gray sponge full of maroon-colored liquid, up into the hot yellow light. It was clear from the ruptures and the ragged bits of tissue that it had suffered a massive injury. Something large had literally plowed through the brain, severing arteries and destroying cells. Marcuse placed it gently in the scales.

  “Any fragments? Any sign of a slug in there?” Kennedy had gotten past the usual moment of illness. Once the body was open, it somehow was less than a body. You could get some emotional distance from it then.

  Marcuse suggested an X ray. “If there are fragments we’ll find them. Mervyn, take care of this. Let’s get a look at this skull.”

  The M.E. used a track probe to outline the bullet path, placing it in the entrance wound very carefully. It passed easily through the hole. Marcuse moved it gently and slowly through the various internal structures of the skull, calling out each sign of injury as it was revealed. The probe passed completely through the skull and came out of the exit wound. Photos were taken of the track probe in place.

  “This what killed him, Charlie?”

  Marcuse frowned in the harsh light.

  “It didn’t cure his migraines, that’s for sure. But it’s hard to say whether he was alive, half-alive, half-dead, or bleeding like a butchered hog when this brute went through his skull. If you ask me …”

  Marcuse pondered it for a while. Kennedy said nothing.

  “Just speculation right now. But I’d say he was at or near death when he was shot. Head-shot victims will bleed ferociously until the heart and lungs shut down. But although the brain is a wreck, there’s not quite as much blood in here as I’d imagine. He’d lost a lot of blood before they did this to him.”

  “Enough to make him unconscious?” Kennedy had no idea why he asked that question. It was an emotional one, and for Kennedy a revelation of weakness. Marcuse glanced quickly up at the detective, and then down again at the empty skull.

  “He never heard the shot, Eddie. I can tell you that.”

  There was a softness in his tone that healed Eddie as much as it cut him.

  More photos were taken, of the brain, the skull cavity, with and without the track probe. Marcuse also explored the neck wound, and additional shots were taken of this large incision as the doctor peeled away various levels of subcutaneous tissue to lay bare the severed common carotid artery.

  The next stage involved a Y-shaped incision across the chest area, known officially as a thoraco-abdominal incision. Most M.E.’s just call it the chest cut. Marcuse put his left hand on the center of the boy’s chest, fingers spread to hold the skin and flesh in place. Using a large sterile scalpel, he began his cut on the boy’s left shoulder, right at the bone point. Marcuse brought the blade around in a shallow curve, digging deep, cutting fast through the fine brown skin of the hairless chest, cutting through pectoral muscles and fatty tissue, finishing the cut in the same motion at the bone point of the right shoulder. Then he cut a vertical incision, deep and fast, starting at the breastbone where it was bisected by the first cut, running all the way to the crest of the pubic bone. The Y-shaped cut gaped open. There was no blood.

  The skin and flesh had to be sliced away from the underlying cartilage and the covering of the rib cage. Marcuse peeled it back in a matter of a minute, revealing the thoracic and abdominal region from the breastbone all the way to the bladder.

  There it is, thought Kennedy, the whole game laid out for you; Kennedy wondered why people say “I have a body,” instead of, “I am a body.” Nobody has one unless he took it from someone else. You are bodies, all of you. Meat is what we all are. It was a thought Kennedy did his best to forget and he frequently managed it for weeks at a time.

  Marcuse snapped his way through the breastbone using a pair of cutters. The crunch-pop crunch-pop crunch-pop sound and the underlying squelch of gristle and bone giving way was nothing compared to the scent, vivid and miasmic and dense, a literal reek of old meat, aging blood, the very breath of mortality, rising into your nostrils and down your throat; the taste and smell of wet copper and damp stone. Kennedy found a stump of his Colt cigarillo and fired it up again. The bone had to be cut away from the pale, almost transparent membrane, giving way finally at the throat, the scalpel blade flickering deftly in the wrack.

  Marcuse took the entire breast-plate away, peeling it back over the boy’s shoulder, exposing the organs beneath it. Kennedy recognized the lungs and the liver, and the whorls and loops of the intestines. The heart, as expected, was hidden under the lungs.

  “Looks pale but normal. We’ll get that pericardial sac open, get you some heart blood for the toxicologists. Now let’s see …”

  With a marvelous economy Marcuse extracted the blood, then removed the lungs and the heart. They were weighed; Marcuse looked them over and pronounced them normal, and sent them over to Mervyn to take samples. He drew several syringes of fluid out of the various cavities, which were also measured and sampled. The remaining chest skin was pushed upward. Marcuse poked about in the throat for a while, emerging with those organs as well.

  Bit by bit, sample by scrape, ounce by snip, the boy who used to be was transformed into the forensic jigs
aw that lies at the core of every killing. Kennedy had seen nearly ninety autopsies, but this gradual disintegration was always the moment when he finally declared the victim truly and thoroughly obliterated. There was a transference in the moment, something Kennedy hardly ever sensed on any level other than the limbic one; from this point on, the dead had no voice and hardly existed in the coherent form. They were nothing but volts and synapses in other people’s bodies, as transitory as the glitter of light on a blade. Kennedy took them on at that moment, carried them somewhere inside him, brought their tales to the light as best he could. It was a primal thing with him, although he hardly sensed it, but it was the force that drove him.

  By the time Rimsky-Korsakoff had brought his traveler to the Rock Surmounted by a Bronze Warrior, Marcuse was well into his final protocol. He summarized his findings again, citing the means by which the body had come to him, and the officers attendant at the autopsy. He went through the stages once more, briefly encapsulating his findings.