enthusiasm.
âHe doesnât want a shrink.â
âSo what do we do?â
âHanneloreâs been confined to the house by the doctor.â
After the lousy experience at the hospital, Hannelore had consulted her obstetrician and he had advised her to take time off and get some rest. She had accepted his judgment with stoic good spirits, something Van In found strange and out of character. She usually didnât give in so easily.
âSheâs going to try to win him over, gain his confidence. Perhaps sheâs the one to break down the wall heâs built around himself. She managed to get a shitload more out of him than I did, I can tell you that.â
Van In scrambled to his feet and rubbed his face with both hands. Sleepless nights had left him with feet like clay and legs like lead. âIâm thinking we should contact the police physician and have a word or two with Jasper Simons.â
âAnd what about the black widow?â asked Guido.
âIgnore her, Guido.â
âAnd if that doesnât work?â
âThen we move in with the federal boys. If we have to live with someone, then give me the feds over a dangerous spider any day.â
âThat means youâll have to grow a mustache, Pieter. You know what the feds do with mustacheless men?â
âI do,â said Van In. âThey get to lick the colonelâs ass.â
Forensic medicine had evolved by leaps and bounds in recent decades, and DNA technology had been responsible for most of the advances. These days, a couple of cells were enough to identify a criminal, and they didnât always have to be skin cells. Blood, sperm, saliva, sweat, and tears also contained genetic material. Investigative techniques had made similarly spectacular advances. Ear and tooth prints, for example, were just as reliable as traditional fingerprints. Invisible footprints could now be made visible using new advanced photography, blurred video material could be digitally enhanced, and toxicologists were capable of detecting just about every poison on the planet. Van In tried to keep track of it all as far and as often as he could, which was why he was so surprised that the police physician was unable to answer his question.
âSo if Iâm understanding you right, you havenât been able to determine the cause of death?â
âNot for the present, Commissioner. I was hoping the toxicologistâs report would fill in the gaps.â
âYou think she was poisoned?â
The police physician had more than ten yearsâ experience, and this was the first time in his career that heâd been stumped. âAll I know is what didnât kill her.â
The case clearly bothered him. He went on: There were no signs of external injury on Trui Andriesâs body. She had no congenital defects, yet her heart had packed it in. The blood work had been equally inconclusive. The victim hadnât been taking medication or drugs of any kind, and there were no signs of suffocation. Death by poisoning seemed the only remaining hypothesis, but the analysis had yielded nothing. All the tests were negative.
âThatâs why I asked Raf Geens to do some sniffing around for me,â he said.
âIs that the guy who works for criminal investigations?â Van In asked.
According to some rumors, Geens was a drunk who enjoyed the protection of a few people with influence; othersâa small minority, it has to be saidâswore by all that was holy that the eccentric analyst was a genius.
The police physician nodded. In spite of his professional pride, he belonged to the latter group.
âSo you think heâll come up with something?â
The police physician smiled. âPassion is a machine, and no one knows what itâs capable of. If you ask me, Geens worked through the night on the case. Shall I give him a call? He might have something for us.â
âNo need, Doctor.
Joss Ware
Claudia Winter
Andrew Neiderman
David Wailing
Harold Schechter
J. F. Gonzalez
Elizabeth Crook
Dean Koontz
Frank Hayes
Peter Watts, Greg Egan, Ken Liu, Robert Reed, Elizabeth Bear, Madeline Ashby, E. Lily Yu