Dead Guilty dffi-2

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘We may never know,’’ said Kendel. ‘‘However, his hands are crossed. That’s significant.’’

  ‘‘It is, indeed,’’ agreed Jonas.

  ‘‘How is that significant?’’ asked Andie.

  ‘‘It’s a royal burial position,’’ said Jonas. ‘‘Plus he had a top-notch embalming job done on himself.’’

  Andie rubbed her hands together. ‘‘I’ll bet we got ourselves a king.’’

  ‘‘Arrange a CT scan at the hospital,’’ said Diane.

  They all looked at one another, sharing the excite ment, both surprised and pleased that Diane had de cided to spring for the expense of a scan.

  ‘‘Korey, you’ll have to package him so he doesn’t contaminate the hospital,’’ Diane said.

  ‘‘I can do that. I’ll take care of any infestations first, then we’ll wrap him in plastic wrap on a board.’’

  ‘‘Plastic wrap?’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘Sure. He’ll be wrapped up like a mummy.’’

  A groan from Andie. ‘‘Oh, please.’’

  ‘‘We’ll need tissue samples for dating and other analysis,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Jonas, I’ll depend on your knowledge of embalming techniques for the various dynasties to help us narrow in on the time and place of origin for this guy.’’

  ‘‘Already been collecting my references,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Korey, let me know when you set up the scan.’’ Diane left them excitedly discussing the mummy and headed for her office.

  She sat down behind her desk, closed her eyes and lis tened to the water bubbling over the rocks of the fountain decorating the side table in her office. She had designed and constructed the fountain to remind her of the inside of a cave. When she closed her eyes and listened, she was in some deep dark grotto. She could almost feel the cool of the rock around her—the perfect peace.

  ‘‘Damn, I’m sorry to disturb you.’’

  Diane opened her eyes. Peace was always shortlived. ‘‘Mike. Can I help you?’’

  Mike Seger, graduate assistant to the geology cura tor, pulled up a chair and laid a folder on her desk. ‘‘Saw your interview on TV last night,’’ Mike said

  ‘‘Last night? Interview?’’

  ‘‘About the bodies in the woods.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t give an interview.’’

  ‘‘It looked like file footage taken at the official opening of the crime lab. You talked about justice, the objectivity of evidence, the evil of murder—’’

  ‘‘Great. My mailbox will be filled with more com plaints about the crime lab being in the museum.’’

  A handful of people—including a few on her board—objected to having something as tawdry as a crime lab in the pristine learning environment of the museum, and they liked to E-mail her about it, having somehow gotten her private E-mail address.

  From the look of her mail, she was right. Amid Email from various members of her staff was some from people she recognized as dissenters.

  ‘‘I have photographs of the model in progress,’’ Mike said. ‘‘Of the Journey to the Center of the Earth exhibit.’’

  ‘‘Have you shown it to Kendel?’’

  ‘‘Yes. But since it was your idea...’’

  Mike’s light brown eyes glittered with what looked to Diane like mischief. She processed her E-mail as Mike laid out photographs of the model he and the exhibit designers were constructing.

  There was a message from a man who lamented that everywhere he turned there was forensics—books, mov ies, TV networks, learning channels, and darn it all, now his museum. And an E-mail from a woman who insisted Diane resign rather than serve two masters—the sublime and the grotesque. Another one began with something about an eye for an eye, and what did a museum director know about evil? And several wanted her to include the crime lab on the museum tour. She hesitated a moment, wondering whether to forward the messages to Andie for reply, or simply delete. She deleted all of them.

  Mike was enthusiastic as he arranged the photos.

  ‘‘It’ll look just like they’re descending through lay ers of the earth. It will be especially cool when they get to the fossil layer.’’

  ‘‘This is what I had in mind,’’ she said. ‘‘I like it.’’

  ‘‘I thought perhaps we could discuss it over dinner sometime.’’

  ‘‘If the exhibit designer would like to, you don’t need my permission. You can meet anywhere you want.’’

  Mike grinned broadly. For a moment she thought his teeth actually sparkled.

  He leaned forward with his forearms on her desk. ‘‘That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’’

  ‘‘No?’’

  ‘‘I thought you and I could discuss it.’’

  ‘‘I haven’t the time or the inclination to microma nage the exhibits. Most of my people know their jobs. I like to leave them alone.’’

  ‘‘All right, I can handle that. How about going cav ing?’’ He gave her a one-sided dimpled smile and pulled a folded paper from his shirt pocket and handed her a list. ‘‘These are some good caves to start with. Some of us from the Bartram Caving Club’s been to all of them.’’

  Diane read the list. Blowing Cave, Climax Caverns, Glory Hole Caverns, Kingston Saltpeter Cave Pre serve. She cocked an eyebrow. ‘‘You’re kidding.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ He took the list and studied it for several seconds before he burst out laughing. ‘‘I didn’t name them.’’

  ‘‘Which one do you suggest we start with?’’

  ‘‘Glory Hole Cavern’s really beautiful but not a lot of fun for someone who hasn’t had much experience. Didn’t you say one of your crime crew wants to come along?’’

  ‘‘Neva Hurley. She’s visited caves as a tourist, and a few as an explorer, but she doesn’t have much experience.’’

  ‘‘Climax is a good cave. Great geology. Lots of fos sils. The front rooms are pretty easy. It gets harder farther in.’’

  ‘‘Where is it?’’

  ‘‘Near the Florida border.’’

  ‘‘Anything closer?’’

  ‘‘There is a cave I’ve been interested in visiting.’’ He stuffed the list back in his pocket. ‘‘It’s not easy to get the owner to allow people in. It’s a big cave and not too hard, I’ve heard. Some of the deeper rooms and tunnels are for experienced cavers. It also has some good geology. It’s only twenty miles from here.’’

  ‘‘Do you think you could get permission?’’

  ‘‘Yeah, I think so. A guy in my caving club is tight with the man who manages the property. We’ll have to take him.’’

  ‘‘That’s fine. Do you know if it’s been mapped?’’

  ‘‘Some of the tunnels, but I haven’t seen the maps. You thinking about mapping it?’’

  ‘‘If it’s an interesting cave and hasn’t been mapped, yes. That’d be fun.’’

  ‘‘I’ll let you know something in a couple of days.’’ Mike stood up and started for the door, hesitated, smiled, turned again and went out the door.

  Diane looked through the papers Andie had left on her desk. Nothing that couldn’t wait. She needed to get back to the autopsies.

  Chapter 8

  The diener was placing another of Diane’s bodies on the table when she reentered the autopsy containment room, suited, masked and gloved, her hair under a plastic cap. The rooms were cool now, the odors man ageable, the way they should be.

  This victim was called Green, after the color of cord Diane had used to secure the ends of the cut hanging rope. Green had hung fifteen feet from Blue.

  Lynn and Raymond were chatting away about the Braves as they cut away the clothing. The only part of the conversation Diane understood was Raymond saying, ‘‘Unh unh, ain’t no way.’’

  Lynn looked up and nodded as Diane approached. ‘‘This one is about the same age as Blue,’’ she said. ‘‘I’d say in his early twenties, maybe late teens.’’

  ‘‘Too young to die,’’ said Raymond.<
br />
  ‘‘We have some insect specimens for you from Blue.’’ Lynn motioned toward the counter where several jars sat. ‘‘We collected live larvae as well as dead husks. Raymond enjoys that sort of thing, don’t you, Raymond?’’

  ‘‘You going to hatch those bugs?’’ asked Raymond.

  ‘‘That’s the only way the entomologist can be cer tain about the species of the larva and how long the life cycle is. It’ll help fix the time of death.’’

  ‘‘They haven’t been there long. I’d say just a couple of weeks, from the rate of decay,’’ said Lynn.

  ‘‘They were hanging off the ground,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Shouldn’t make that much of a difference,’’ said Lynn.

  This was the first time Diane had cause to question Lynn’s competence. But she didn’t say anything, re membering

  had shown

  outshown.

  that earlier on at the crime scene Lynn a sensitivity to being contradicted or

  However, to be fair, it takes experience with hang ing victims to realize that it can indeed make much of a difference. Rate of decay is highly dependent on the environment. Bodies decay differently in Alaska than in Hawaii, or the Sahara, or Portobelo. And they decay differently out in the open, or hanging, or sealed in an enclosed space, or buried shallow, or buried deep, or buried in a limestone environment. It also makes a difference if they have open wounds, such as the cutoff fingertips.

  It’s a matter of the body tissues being accessible to the insects and microbes that cause decay. And the presence of chemicals or elements that interfere with microbial and insect action by causing the body to dehydrate or to become preserved.

  There are so many permutations and combinations that unless you’ve had experience with them all, there is no way to just know. Had these bodies been discov ered at a later date and had Red, the corpse Diane witnessed fall, lain on the ground where the insects could get to him, he would appear to have died earlier than the others, even though their time of death might be the same.

  Diane thought of explaining, but it would just sound like a lecture, it would offend Lynn’s sensitivity and it would make Lynn look bad in front of Raymond. She’d simply use what information David collected from his reared insects and make her estimates of the time of death.

  Diane removed the rope from Green the same way she had from the first victim. Raymond took the pho tographs. Green was tied in exactly the same way as Blue—hands behind the back in a handcuff knot with the standing end of the rope in a loop around the neck and the extra rope from the working end wrapped four times around the wrists with the end tucked between the loops.

  The noose was tied the same way as on the first— a bowline to make a loop to pull the rope through to create a noose that tightens under tension. She hadn’t expected the knots to be any different, and they weren’t. She carefully packed and labeled the rope.

  ‘‘I was wondering if you would take me caving sometime,’’ said Lynn. ‘‘A simple cave for a rank beginner.’’

  ‘‘Neva wants to go caving too. She’s also a beginner. We should be able to find a good starter cave we can go to.’’

  Lynn grinned. ‘‘I have always loved caves, under ground lakes, all those things. One of my favorite movies is Journey to the Center of the Earth. Loved that underground lake.’’

  ‘‘Caving’s not usually that eventful,’’ said Diane.

  Both Raymond and Lynn laughed.

  ‘‘You wouldn’t catch me going down a black hole,’’

  said Raymond. ‘‘Heard about too many people getting

  themselves stuck. You sprain your ankle and it’s hell

  trying to get you out.’’

  ‘‘You learn to be careful,’’ Diane said. ‘‘Knowing

  your ropes and knots helps too.’’

  ‘‘I think he’s had his appendix out,’’ said Lynn. She

  rubbed the area with a damp piece of gauze. ‘‘Let’s

  get a photograph of this, Raymond. Have you ever

  had to be rescued?’’ she asked Diane.

  ‘‘No, but I have been on a rescue team. It can be

  a dicey situation, for certain.’’ Diane collected several

  surface specimens of insects while Lynn and Raymond

  continued the external examination of the body. Green was male. Taller than the woman, though it

  would be hard to tell exactly until Diane could mea

  sure the bones. Now, from his head to his feet his

  stretch length was eight feet seven inches.

  ‘‘Other than the appendix scar, there are no visible

  external markings. No needle marks or signs of defen

  sive wounds that are visible.’’ Lynn talked into the

  recorder in a monotone voice, quite different from her

  conversational tone.

  Lynn didn’t run Diane out for the autopsy this time.

  Diane stayed and continued to collect insect specimens. At the crime scene and on the bodies a full range

  of insects were present—insects that feed on flesh, and

  insects that fed on the flesh-eating insects. The only

  kind she didn’t see were the ground beetles that feed

  on dried flesh. All the dried flesh was hanging well

  out of their reach.

  Lynn made the Y incision and pulled back the flaps

  of tissue, increasing the putrid smell in the room. Lynn

  was petite, even looked delicate next to the autopsy

  table, but she had no problem cutting away the chest

  plate, gaining her access to the block of organs. ‘‘You know,’’ said Lynn, ‘‘I really prefer fresh

  bodies.’’

  Diane had to agree as she watched Lynn and Ray

  mond locate the subclavian and carotid arteries. ‘‘Go ahead and tie them off, Raymond—if you can. I’m getting a lot more decay in this one than the Blue girl. Let’s get these organs out and, Diane, you’re wel

  come to any insects you can find.’’

  Raymond did most of the cutting to remove the

  organs and took them to the other autopsy table for

  Lynn to examine. There were very few insect larva in

  the chest cavity, but Diane found several good speci

  mens in the lower abdomen.

  ‘‘Go ahead and get at the brain,’’ Lynn told Ray

  mond. ‘‘I hope it’s not mush.’’

  As Lynn examined the organs, Diane told them

  about the unexpected mummy.

  ‘‘So he just kind of showed up on your doorstep?’’

  said Raymond. ‘‘Now, that’s cool. Dr. Lynn, I’m going

  to cut the neck, if you can . . . never mind, I think I

  can manage it. These long necks are a mess to deal

  with, I’m telling you.’’

  ‘‘So you’ll be opening an Egyptian exhibit?’’ asked

  Lynn.

  ‘‘At some point perhaps. We’ve got a lot of research

  to do before then.’’

  ‘‘Oh, this fellow had a heart condition,’’ said Lynn. Diane looked over her shoulder at the darkened

  heart Lynn had opened up.

  ‘‘See here?’’ Lynn pointed her scalpel at a valve.

  ‘‘He had a mitral valve prolapse. You know,’’ she

  turned her head toward Diane, ‘‘this might show up

  in his bones.’’

  ‘‘You think it may be associated with skeletal

  abnormalities?’’

  ‘‘It’s observed in about two-thirds of patients with

  this condition.’’

  ‘‘Would he have been under a physician’s care?’’

  asked Diane.

  ‘‘It’s not severe, so he may have been basically

  asymptomatic. That’s not uncommon. He may

  have had to take antibiotics when he had dental

  work.’�
��

  The sound of the Stryker saw was of short duration.

  Raymond was skilled. The sound of the calvarium

  being removed didn’t have the characteristic pop of a

  fresh body.

  ‘‘Pretty soft,’’ said Raymond. ‘‘We may be able to