„It’s Willy Roy Boyd.“
„Ah,“ said Slope, „your lady-killer. So, given his current condition – dead – I’m guessing that you lost your temper when he made bail.“
Her strip show continued downward until she had exposed the pair of scissors sticking out of the man’s chest.
„Point taken,“ he said. „Not your style.“ If Kathy had inflicted this wound, the scissors would have been placed more symmetrically and at a perfect right angle to the flesh. She was peculiar that way, compulsively neat.
The doctor unzipped the rest of the body. „If I were to roll him over, would I see any other signs of trauma?“
„No,“ she said. „That’s not it.“
And the game went on.
He checked the dead man’s eyes and fingernails. „No obvious indication of poison.“ He stared at the chest. „Those shears make a hell of an entry wound. I would’ve expected more blood.“
„Right. He was dead when the scissors went in, but Dr. Morgan didn’t catch that. He said the scissors contained the bleeding like a stopper in a bottle.“
In defense of his young and unseasoned, possibly incompetent, medical examiner, Dr. Slope said, „Well, that’s one possibility.“ Like hell it was. Hers was the more likely explanation. The dead man was thin, his chest concave, and the shears went deep. One did not rupture the human heart so neatly, not with a weapon of this size and thickness. „I’ll know for sure after the chest is cracked. So you don’t think he was stabbed to death.“
„Of course he was stabbed to death.“ The perverse brat paused a moment to relish this small win, the look of surprise in his eyes. She pointed to the chest. „And that’s the only entry wound.“
Edward Slope had to smile. He was the one who had taught her this twisted game. The student was surpassing the master.
Kathy Mallory picked through the dead man’s hair. Finding something she liked, she said, „See this spot of blood on the scalp?“
Slope adjusted his glasses as he leaned over the corpse. „Yes, and here’s another one on the upper lip. So small.“
„And this drop on his shirt.“ One red fingernail marked the spot. „That’s three drops total. And none of the blood is where you’d expect to find it if the shears had killed him. It’s a back-strike splatter. So the wound was made with something smaller, thinner.“ She leaned down to rifle her knapsack and pulled out a bag tagged by Forensics. It contained an ice pick. „I like this for the primary weapon. I want his stomach contents. I want to know what he ate for his last meal and where he ate it. I want a screen for drugs. If he’s a user, I need to know when he got his last fix. And I want – “
„Stop.“ The doctor put one hand up in the manner of a traffic cop. „First things first. A few drops of back-strike blood doesn’t prove it was an ice pick. I can’t even corroborate a second weapon. I’ve told you a hundred times, textbook scenarios don’t even get close to the spectrum of trauma I see on my dissection table.“
„I didn’t work this out by reading a book.“ She opened the evidence bag and held it close to his face. „Sniff that.“
No need. The odor of bleach was strong. „Someone cleaned it.“
She turned over the evidence bag to show him the white residue of a price tag peeled from the bottom of the pick handle. „It’s brand new, a perfectly smooth surface. Heller says, even without the bleach, his luminal wouldn’t pick up any blood on the metal. But this is the weapon. It fits with the back-strike blood.“
„You know who killed him, too?“
„An old lady.“
„Good,“ said Slope, finding this only fitting since Willy Roy Boyd had murdered three women. And now he better understood police concerns about leaks to the newspapers. He envisioned the headline: Old Lady Kills Lady-Killer.
Kathy Mallory parted the hair on the dead man’s scalp. „This drop runs horizontally. The woman said they were both
„Ah,“ said Slope, „your lady-killer. So, given his current condition – dead – I’m guessing that you lost your temper when he made bail.“
Her strip show continued downward until she had exposed the pair of scissors sticking out of the man’s chest.
„Point taken,“ he said. „Not your style.“ If Kathy had inflicted this wound, the scissors would have been placed more symmetrically and at a perfect right angle to the flesh. She was peculiar that way, compulsively neat.
The doctor unzipped the rest of the body. „If I were to roll him over, would I see any other signs of trauma?“
„No,“ she said. „That’s not it.“
And the game went on.
He checked the dead man’s eyes and fingernails. „No obvious indication of poison.“ He stared at the chest. „Those shears make a hell of an entry wound. I would’ve expected more blood.“
„Right. He was dead when the scissors went in, but Dr. Morgan didn’t catch that. He said the scissors contained the bleeding like a stopper in a bottle.“
In defense of his young and unseasoned, possibly incompetent, medical examiner, Dr. Slope said, „Well, that’s one possibility.“ Like hell it was. Hers was the more likely explanation. The dead man was thin, his chest concave, and the shears went deep. One did not rupture the human heart so neatly, not with a weapon of this size and thickness. „I’ll know for sure after the chest is cracked. So you don’t think he was stabbed to death.“
„Of course he was stabbed to death.“ The perverse brat paused a moment to relish this small win, the look of surprise in his eyes. She pointed to the chest. „And that’s the only entry wound.“
Edward Slope had to smile. He was the one who had taught her this twisted game. The student was surpassing the master.
Kathy Mallory picked through the dead man’s hair. Finding something she liked, she said, „See this spot of blood on the scalp?“
Slope adjusted his glasses as he leaned over the corpse. „Yes, and here’s another one on the upper lip. So small.“
„And this drop on his shirt.“ One red fingernail marked the spot. „That’s three drops total. And none of the blood is where you’d expect to find it if the shears had killed him. It’s a back-strike splatter. So the wound was made with something smaller, thinner.“ She leaned down to rifle her knapsack and pulled out a bag tagged by Forensics. It contained an ice pick. „I like this for the primary weapon. I want his stomach contents. I want to know what he ate for his last meal and where he ate it. I want a screen for drugs. If he’s a user, I need to know when he got his last fix. And I want – “
„Stop.“ The doctor put one hand up in the manner of a traffic cop. „First things first. A few drops of back-strike blood doesn’t prove it was an ice pick. I can’t even corroborate a second weapon. I’ve told you a hundred times, textbook scenarios don’t even get close to the spectrum of trauma I see on my dissection table.“
„I didn’t work this out by reading a book.“ She opened the evidence bag and held it close to his face. „Sniff that.“
No need. The odor of bleach was strong. „Someone cleaned it.“
She turned over the evidence bag to show him the white residue of a price tag peeled from the bottom of the pick handle. „It’s brand new, a perfectly smooth surface. Heller says, even without the bleach, his luminal wouldn’t pick up any blood on the metal. But this is the weapon. It fits with the back-strike blood.“
„You know who killed him, too?“
„An old lady.“
„Good,“ said Slope, finding this only fitting since Willy Roy Boyd had murdered three women. And now he better understood police concerns about leaks to the newspapers. He envisioned the headline: Old Lady Kills Lady-Killer.
Kathy Mallory parted the hair on the dead man’s scalp. „This drop runs horizontally. The woman said they were both
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