away.
Jack scanned the certificate. The decedent, John Doe, was listed as Asian. Under the section “COD,” the entry for cause of death stunned him: Sharp force piercing through heart . Manner of death: HOMICIDE.
But how? There’d been no blood and no visible trauma or defensive wounds. He imagined the frozen body in the frozen river again, was turning the image over in his head, when the medical examiner appeared. He looked like an Ivy League professor in a gray smock.
“A stab in the heart, Doctor?” Jack asked incredulously. “I didn’t see any blood.”
“It was easy to miss, Detective. A single thrust. A very thin wound.” Jacobson lifted a black hoodie sweatshirt, still wet, from one of the gurneys and held it open. He indicated a thin slit in the fabric where a sharp force had penetrated. “The sweatshirt and undershirt, everything was wet and black and bunched up. We didn’t see the wound until we got the clothes off.”
“But no blood?” Jack repeated.
“It’s possible, from floating in the cold water for hours,” the doctor suggested, “that any blood could have washed out. And it’s also harder to see blood on black.” He opened one of the metal drawers and slid out a rack with the decedent’s autopsied corpse. Chang , thought Jack. Jun Wah, aka Singarette. It comes down to a body on the slab at the morgue . A Y-cut where they’d opened him up ran from chest to navel, but what caught Jack’s eye was the single wound over the heart area, a thin vertical slit barely an inch tall, with matching bruises at either end.
“The skin normally contracts around the wound,” Jacobson said, “but the cold river water could have helped close it. But we can tell that it was a double-edged weapon, which is unusual.”
“Like a sword?” Jack asked.
“More like a dirk .”
Jack narrowed his eyes at the wound, trying to imagine the weapon. Like a Greek or Roman dagger, the kind you’d see in a knife collector’s mail-order catalog.
“Or a dagger,” the doctor continued. “In this case a short dagger, maybe a four-and-a-half-inch blade. See the rounded abrasions at either end of the cut? The dagger had a hand-guard. It pierced his heart but not through to his back. Severed the aorta and the veins around it.”
“It was driven in to the hilt then?” Jack said.
“With tremendous force. That’s what caused the hand-guard marks.”
Driven forward and held until the man was dead, the weapon could kill in less than three minutes.
“Given the angle of the thrust, I’d say it was a left-handedperson, someone taller than the decedent. Maybe five foot ten inches, almost like yourself.”
“I don’t see any defensive wounds,” Jack said. “And you said only through the sweatshirt and undershirt, but not the jacket? So the jacket was open?”
“Yes.”
“So he never saw it coming?” Jack said as he gained clarity.
“We don’t know that.”
“He let his guard down. Or it was someone he knew.”
“That’s for you to find out, Detective, isn’t it?” Jacobson smiled faintly. He took from the gurney the knockoff Rolex that Chang had been wearing, laid it next to the corpse. It had stopped at 10:30 P.M .
“Estimated time of death is between nine thirty and ten P.M .,” Jacobson continued. “The casing and the metal clock mechanism freeze in the water and contract and slow to a stop. Within an hour or two.”
“Think he was dead before he hit the water?” Jack asked.
“Very possible,” Jacobson answered. “Or close to it. There wasn’t much water in his lungs.” He bagged the watch and gave it to Jack.
Ah Por , thought Jack. He’d want her to get a touch on the watch before it went into the crime lab. Maybe they’d get some prints off it. He took a last look at the corpse before Jacobson pushed the drawer back in.
“Good luck, Detective,” Jacobson said as he moved to the next body.
Jack thanked him and left the room of the dead.
Outside, the cold, crisp air
Jack scanned the certificate. The decedent, John Doe, was listed as Asian. Under the section “COD,” the entry for cause of death stunned him: Sharp force piercing through heart . Manner of death: HOMICIDE.
But how? There’d been no blood and no visible trauma or defensive wounds. He imagined the frozen body in the frozen river again, was turning the image over in his head, when the medical examiner appeared. He looked like an Ivy League professor in a gray smock.
“A stab in the heart, Doctor?” Jack asked incredulously. “I didn’t see any blood.”
“It was easy to miss, Detective. A single thrust. A very thin wound.” Jacobson lifted a black hoodie sweatshirt, still wet, from one of the gurneys and held it open. He indicated a thin slit in the fabric where a sharp force had penetrated. “The sweatshirt and undershirt, everything was wet and black and bunched up. We didn’t see the wound until we got the clothes off.”
“But no blood?” Jack repeated.
“It’s possible, from floating in the cold water for hours,” the doctor suggested, “that any blood could have washed out. And it’s also harder to see blood on black.” He opened one of the metal drawers and slid out a rack with the decedent’s autopsied corpse. Chang , thought Jack. Jun Wah, aka Singarette. It comes down to a body on the slab at the morgue . A Y-cut where they’d opened him up ran from chest to navel, but what caught Jack’s eye was the single wound over the heart area, a thin vertical slit barely an inch tall, with matching bruises at either end.
“The skin normally contracts around the wound,” Jacobson said, “but the cold river water could have helped close it. But we can tell that it was a double-edged weapon, which is unusual.”
“Like a sword?” Jack asked.
“More like a dirk .”
Jack narrowed his eyes at the wound, trying to imagine the weapon. Like a Greek or Roman dagger, the kind you’d see in a knife collector’s mail-order catalog.
“Or a dagger,” the doctor continued. “In this case a short dagger, maybe a four-and-a-half-inch blade. See the rounded abrasions at either end of the cut? The dagger had a hand-guard. It pierced his heart but not through to his back. Severed the aorta and the veins around it.”
“It was driven in to the hilt then?” Jack said.
“With tremendous force. That’s what caused the hand-guard marks.”
Driven forward and held until the man was dead, the weapon could kill in less than three minutes.
“Given the angle of the thrust, I’d say it was a left-handedperson, someone taller than the decedent. Maybe five foot ten inches, almost like yourself.”
“I don’t see any defensive wounds,” Jack said. “And you said only through the sweatshirt and undershirt, but not the jacket? So the jacket was open?”
“Yes.”
“So he never saw it coming?” Jack said as he gained clarity.
“We don’t know that.”
“He let his guard down. Or it was someone he knew.”
“That’s for you to find out, Detective, isn’t it?” Jacobson smiled faintly. He took from the gurney the knockoff Rolex that Chang had been wearing, laid it next to the corpse. It had stopped at 10:30 P.M .
“Estimated time of death is between nine thirty and ten P.M .,” Jacobson continued. “The casing and the metal clock mechanism freeze in the water and contract and slow to a stop. Within an hour or two.”
“Think he was dead before he hit the water?” Jack asked.
“Very possible,” Jacobson answered. “Or close to it. There wasn’t much water in his lungs.” He bagged the watch and gave it to Jack.
Ah Por , thought Jack. He’d want her to get a touch on the watch before it went into the crime lab. Maybe they’d get some prints off it. He took a last look at the corpse before Jacobson pushed the drawer back in.
“Good luck, Detective,” Jacobson said as he moved to the next body.
Jack thanked him and left the room of the dead.
Outside, the cold, crisp air
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