Dirty Deeds

by Liliana Hart

  “That’s why it’s best to use it as often as possible before you lose it.”

  “What about this guy?” I asked, pointing to the statue the body was positioned under. “Do you think that has any significance?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Or it could be just window dressing to complete the scene.”

  “What saint is that anyway? He’s terrifying.”

  “Saint Miguel. Or Saint Michael. He fights off Satan’s army. And a bunch of other stuff I don’t remember.”

  “How come you know so much about the saints?”

  Jack grinned, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “I dated a lot of Catholic girls. I learned a lot.”

  I arched a brow and then rolled my eyes. Jack had pretty much “dated” most of the available women in a tri-state area. As long as I was the last in the line, I didn’t care about his history. I was mostly grateful he’d had all that practice. He knew things.

  “I appreciate all the research you did on my behalf.”

  “Hey, I knew you’d look my way at some point. I wanted to be ready when the time came.”

  “Do you think other couples flirt with each other over dead bodies?”

  “Maybe. If they spend most of their time around dead bodies like we do. But I wouldn’t bring it up to a therapist. It could be cause for concern.”

  “Good call.” I removed the necklace and bagged it and then I focused on the dagger. “Interesting hilt,” I said. “Looks old. Some of the engraving is worn away so it’s a smooth, but it looks like an eagle.”

  The eagle was carved at the end of the hilt, but the hilt itself looked like it was made from a polished ivory or bone. I didn’t have a ruler to measure the hilt, but it stuck out of his chest a good four or five inches.

  “Hold him steady,” I told Jack. I got a good grasp on the hilt and removed the knife.

  “Whoever did this has some strength behind them. Stabbing someone in the heart isn’t as easy as it looks on TV. It’s always better to go for the soft tissue areas.”

  “Is that writing on the blade?” Jack asked.

  I took a closer look and sure enough something was inscribed on the blade. “I can’t make out what it says. We’ll need to look at it under better light, but it doesn’t look like English. That blade is probably close to ten inches. Very unusual.”

  “We don’t have a lab, and I doubt Joe’s going to authorize the expense of sending it off to a bigger city for examination. We can do some Internet searching and send a photo to any of the known collectors. If it’s as old as it looks it might not be too hard to identify.”

  “He’s still in primary flaccidity, but rigor is starting to set in because of the heat. It can speed up the process. But I’d say his death is less than two hours old. That works with Father Fernando’s statement of when he found the body. It’s just after six o’ clock.”

  I looked at the area around the body and then lifted Leon’s shirt and looked at his back. “He was definitely killed here. There’s no sign that the body was moved and blood has started to settle in the lower parts of the body.”

  Jack shook his head. “Man, that’s a killer with balls of steel. There was basically a thirty-minute window of time to make the kill, position the body, and escape. And during that time anyone could’ve come upon them. How much would you estimate Leon weighs?”

  I shrugged and looked him over. He was thin and bony, but he had height on his side which would add to his weight. “Maybe somewhere between a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five.”

  “Lets say for the sake of argument and time that Leon agreed to meet the killer here. The killer knows time is short so he doesn’t bother with conversation. He walks right up and stabs him in the heart with the dagger. By looking at the worn patches of his trousers, I’d say Leon fell to his knees before falling to his side on the ground where he scraped the side of his face. The killer has blood on him after a deathblow like that. No way to avoid it. He then straightens out Leon’s body and positions it the way he wants him to be found. Then he escapes out the side gate, not realizing he brushed up against the iron bars and leaving blood behind. That is efficiency at its best.”

  “Damn,” I said for lack of anything better. “Lets get Joe and figure out how to transport the body without making it a circus.”

  “I’ll tell you again. We don’t have to do this, Jaye. It’s our honeymoon. We can say no.”

  “I know, but Leon Stein deserves better than what this island’s resources can give.”

  “That’s only one of the reasons I love you. I’ll go find Joe and see about getting the body back to the jail. Maybe he found out something interesting from one of the parishioners.”

  I didn’t ask, but I was curious to know some of the other reasons Jack loved me too.

  Chapter Five

  “Heat and dead bodies are never a good combination,” I said to Jack and Joe a little while later. “Can you at least bring me in extra fans? Otherwise this is going to be very unpleasant for all of us in a very short amount of time.”

  “Sure, I’ll call my nephew and have him bring some by. Hopefully the added power doesn’t blow the circuits. Though it should cool off considerably when the storm rolls in tomorrow.”

  “We’ll take our chances with the power. Decomposition isn’t an easy smell to remove. You’ll thank me later.”

  “When can I tell the family the body can be prepared for burial?”

  “I’d say you can take it in the morning. I didn’t see a funeral home on the island.”

  “No, Father Fernando is of the old church. There is no embalming or cremation. Nothing to interfere with the natural process of the body returning to dust. I’ll tell the family they can retrieve him in the morning to be cleaned and prepared for the wake. They’ll want to have an open casket.”

  I pressed my lips together at that. “Generally victims that have had their brains removed and put back in don’t get an open casket funeral.”

  “Is it necessary to remove the brain? It seems to me there would be no reason since there was a knife in his heart.”

  “I can do however little or much you want me to. It’s about documentation and making sure the victim gets the justice he deserves. But I’d agree with you in this case. There’s no reason to remove the brain and study it.”

  “Thank you,” Joe said sincerely. “Leon’s funeral would be the talk of the island for years to come. Joe took a bandana out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. “Everyone knows everyone’s business and they have an opinion about it. And a lot of times they know your business before you do. It takes some getting used to.”

  “Believe me,” I said. “We understand. Our town is pretty much the same way. Jack’s mother always told me when we were growing up that if we did anything bad she’d know about it before we got home.”

  “Jack’s mother?” Joe asked. “She raised you?”

  I pressed my lips together and smiled, not willing to talk about my parents, especially on my honeymoon.

  The police station was made from stacked cinder blocks and painted a bright turquoise. There were two square windows at the front, one of which couldn’t be opened because some thoughtful soul had painted it shut. There were no windows on the backside of the square box, so there was no cross breeze. The ceiling consisted of three heavy beams across and sheets of tin laid flat on top of it for the roof. Two ceiling fans were attached and wired precariously from the center beam and they ran on the highest speed—meaning just fast enough to move the air around a little. It was like being trapped in a concrete oven.

  Joe had a metal desk that held an ancient computer and a filing cabinet stood against the wall. There was one cell in the back corner of the room and rusted iron bars made up two sides of the square. There was bed attached to the cement block wall, a metal toilet and sink on the other wall, and there was a giant drain in the floor meant for things I had no desire to think about.

  It was a far cry from the st
erility of my lab at home, and I still wasn’t convinced this was the best decision that could’ve been made. Joe could’ve called the main island and had investigators from there come take over, and he could’ve sent the body to an actual morgue. But he said he’d do the investigation himself before he sent Leon to the mainland.

  According to Joe, the mainland investigators would file Leon away as an unsolved homicide, most likely committed by a tourist with no hope of tracking them down. There was enough crime on the mainland that they stayed busy on their own and didn’t have time to deal with the smaller islands. And they didn’t want to either. It hadn’t sounded like there was any love lost between Joe and the mainland cops.

  “Were you able to get the supplies I asked for?”

  “Yes, they should be here any moment. Doctor Hizumi is sending his son with them.”

  “What about the electronics?” Jack asked, helping me move the body to the table.

  A strange look came over Joe’s face and he cleared his throat. “The rest is being gathered by a—friend. It’s the best equipment on the island.”

  I removed Leon’s clothes and pulled a white sheet over the lower half of his body. There were no table drains, and I was extremely thankful for the drain in the floor.

  A knock sounded at the door and it opened before Joe could reach it to stop whoever was entering. Jack and I immediately moved to the front of Leon’s body, shielding the poor person who was coming in from the surprise of a lifetime. Not everyone dealt well with the dead.

  My clothes were soaking wet and clung to my skin, and my face was flushed from the heat. I would’ve given anything for closed toe shoes and the big leather butcher’s apron I wore during autopsies. I’d had to make due with industrial size trash bags with head and armholes cut out.

  “Hey, Joe,” the man at the door said. “I’ve got that stuff you asked for.”

  The closer I looked, the more I realized he was still more boy than man. His size was deceptive. He was brawny and broad through the chest and shoulders, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time outdoors by the brown tint of his skin. But he still had the softness in his face of someone in their late teens or early twenties. His hair was dark and he had it pulled back in a stub of a ponytail.

  His gaze kept going to me and Jack and Leon Stein, and his dark eyes got round and large.

  “Thanks, Will.” Joe turned to us. “This is my nephew Will Hizumi. Will, this is Sheriff Jack Lawson and his wife, Doctor Graves. They’re helping us out here with Leon.”

  “We sure do appreciate that,” Will said. “Leon was a good guy, but quiet. He minded his own business, and my dad says that’s about the best thing you can say about anyone. Speaking of my dad, he sent all the medical supplies from that list you made. He didn’t have a bone saw, but he had one in the garage from when he built those bookshelves in his office last year. You remember that, Uncle Joe?”

  “I remember it was a mess and I heard about it from your mother for weeks. Will’s mother is my sister.”

  “Did your dad want to be here?” I asked. “If he’s the island physician he’s welcome to do this. I’m happy to assist if he’d prefer.”

  “Oh, no. Dad isn’t a surgeon anymore. He says he enjoys the people and delivering babies. He treats pretty much everyone on the island, and if he can’t treat them he goes with them to the mainland to act as their primary physician. He says it’s a special job.”

  “I can imagine,” I said impressed. “There aren’t many people who get to be so entrenched in an entire community.”

  “Dad’s great. You’ll like him. I brought those extra fans you asked for. Uncle Joe said it would get pretty awful in here without the extra air.”

  “It’ll get awful sooner rather than later in this kind of heat,” Jack said. “We appreciate the fans.”

  “Not a problem. People were happy to donate them for Leon.”

  Will and Joe went out onto the front steps and collected the box of supplies and the fans. When they came back in there was a woman with them, and the heat in the room went up by about a hundred degrees.

  There were some people who exuded raw sex appeal from their every pore. It hovered around them—a sway of the hips or a toss of long dark hair—a flirtatious look from exotic eyes the color of coal or lips lush and full enough to make every man in the room wonder what she could do with them.

  She was the kind of woman that made other women want to hate her on sight. A cobalt blue sarong was tied loosely at her hips, showing impossibly long legs. And two triangles of fabric in the matching color covered the most perfect breasts I’d ever seen.

  “I brought the laptop and scanner you asked for,” she said. I was surprised to hear she didn’t have a hint of an accent. “Where do you want me to set things up?”

  Even her voice sounded like sex. I snuck a glance at Jack and he winked at me, taking a drink of his bottled water and then passing it to me. I trusted Jack with everything—including my life. But I had to admit it was a nice feeling to not see him react to her the way the other two men were. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Even I wanted to stare.

  Jack had once told me that I was his fantasy. I’d been skeptical at the time. I’d never paid much attention to my looks or put a lot of effort into them. But I knew I was above average as far as attractiveness. I had good bones and skin, and my eyes were an unusual shade of gray. I was slim of hip and breast, more of an athletic build than anything on my five foot eight inch frame, but Jack didn’t seem to mind my lack of curves, and I’d stopped wishing for them once I realized I could shop right off the rack and never had to try on clothes before I bought them.

  The testosterone in the room was so thick I could almost taste it, and Joe looked like he was about two seconds from marking his territory and howling at the moon. Will was still young enough he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like that. His mouth was still hanging open.

  “Thanks, Camille,” Joe said. “You can use my desk.”

  “You got it.” She moved around the two men, impervious to their stares, and went to setting up the equipment on Joe’s desk.

  I found it interesting that Joe didn’t bother to introduce Camille to us like he had Will.

  She glanced in our direction, and her gaze settled a little longer on Jack than I was comfortable with. But then she noticed the silver band on his ring finger and shrugged as her attention turned to me. And then her gaze traveled to Leon and rested there.

  “My grandma told me someone killed Leon. She was at Mass right before it happened.” Camille crossed herself and went back to setting up the scanner and modem so we had internet access. “She said she was surprised no one had done it sooner.”

  “Your grandma didn’t care for Leon?” Jack asked.

  Joe opened his mouth to say something, but Jack gave him a look and he closed it again.

  “Grandma doesn’t much care for anyone who isn’t blood related, and even half of those she’s not too fond of. About forty years ago she and Leon had a run in at the market over the last of the fresh chicken. They haven’t been on speaking terms since.”

  “Did your grandmother see Leon at the church?”

  “Yeah, she said he was at the three o’clock Mass and that he must have had a lot of sins because he took forever in the confession with Father Fernando. And then she said he sat right in the front pew of the church like he was trying to get in good with God since he would probably die soon.”

  “What about after Mass? Did she see him leave the church?”

  “She didn’t say, but when Father Fernando discovered Leon’s body and called out for help she went to the courtyard with most of the other parishioners who were still there.”

  “What about Leon’s wife?” I asked. “Where was she during all this?”

  “Maria has become somewhat of a recluse over the past several months,” Joe said. “She had pneumonia about a year ago and never quite bounced back from it. She only goes to Sunday Mass now. Leon or her chi
ldren do her errands for her.”

  Will had set up the box fans and plugged them in, and the breeze felt like heaven against my overheated skin. Joe handed me the box of supplies and I took them into the cell. I’d already set up a tray next to the body so I could work more efficiently.

  “Thanks for your help, Will,” Joe said, dismissing the younger man. He took some money out of his wallet and passed it over. “Tell your dad thanks. And you and your friends try to stay out of trouble tonight. You put me in an awkward situation having to answer why I’ve never ticketed you for a drunk and disorderly.”

  Will’s face flushed red and his fists bunched at his sides. “If it puts you in that awkward of a position just give me a ticket next time.” He didn’t look at any of us as he left the police station and slammed the door behind him.

  “Poor Will,” Camille said, clicking her tongue. “You embarrassed him. We’ve all been that age. If you don’t get a little drunk and disorderly from time to time you’re not living life.”

  “He’s young and stupid with it. Hopefully he’ll grow out of it and settle down.

  “Oh, lighten up, Joe. As I recall, you were once young and stupid with it too. There’s something to be said about being young though, wouldn’t you say?” She looked up and winked. “The young always have a lot of energy and…enthusiasm. Remember?”

  It was Joe’s turn to flush red with embarrassment, and I felt a little like a voyeur. But then Camille smiled and I suddenly felt sorry for any man who happened to cross paths with her.

  “Enough, Camille. No one likes visiting memory lane.”

  She propped a hand on her hip, deliberately provoking, and Joe’s gaze dropped slowly down her body.

  I elbowed Jack and whispered, “It’s like we’re in our very own soap opera. A dead body and lots of drama.”

  “Ssh,” Jack said. “I want to hear.”

  “Really?” Camille asked. “Memory lane is one of my favorite places. Don’t you wish you could recreate those frantic and sweaty nights? Of course, there’s something to be said for maturity. Experience always trumps enthusiasm. Wouldn’t you say, Joe?”