Rushin' Death, page 7
Dr. Wiltshire finished eating his cookie and returned to autopsy.
“They’re more interested in your fellow than mine,” he observed. He looked the corpse over, then turned his eyes to the monitor as Kenzie displayed the x-ray images. “Broken nose, ribs, both knees. Multiple phalanges.” He raised his brows and looked at Kenzie. “What does that suggest to you?”
“Torture?” Kenzie squinted at each of the fractured bones. “Mob? Organized crime?”
“Possibly. I would say that someone definitely wanted something from our Mr. Doe. This is not a back-alley beatdown or mugging gone bad.”
Kenzie nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else to Wiltshire, then closed it again.
“Nothing else significant yet?” he asked. Kenzie was clearly just in the beginning stages of the examination, and he didn’t expect her to have found anything yet.
“A lot of bruising and internal bleeding. That’s all so far.”
Wiltshire nodded his agreement and drifted back over to his table. Kenzie glanced once toward the observation window, then blocked it out again, turning her focus back to the job. Her whole world, for now, was that man’s body and any clues it held to the cause and manner of death.
13
The victim’s internal organs were unsurprising, unlike with the other John Doe, who had been missing half of his. A kidney ruptured by the beating. Obvious cirrhosis of the liver. Kenzie carefully removed, weighed, and dissected each organ on the watch for anything out of the ordinary. There was little in the stomach other than alcohol. The man had not had a meal recently. No big turkey dinner. That might be significant in setting the time of death once police had an identity and access to his schedule.
Kenzie opened up the small intestine and leaned in for a closer look, adjusting her face shield. “Whoa.”
Dr. Wiltshire straightened up, rubbing the small of his back. “What’s up?”
“You might want to see this.”
Kenzie started to tease out a long white string of segments. She focused the camera on her find so they could get some pictures of it and the cops in the observation room could see it.
Wiltshire joined Kenzie at her table and looked at the monitor as she worked rather than getting into her space.
“Tapeworm,” Kenzie observed.
“Yes. Think you can get the whole thing out without breaking it? It’s always interesting to see how long they are.”
“I think this is going to be a long one.” As Kenzie remembered it, tapeworms were often two or three meters in length.
Dr. Wiltshire stared at the screen. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“Taenia saginata. Tapeworm cases in North America are usually Taenia solium and are mostly found in the Latino community. Taenia saginata, on the other hand—beef tapeworm—is quite rare here. Mostly seen in Eastern Europe.”
Kenzie nodded slowly. She wasn’t surprised by this; she’d already known that the man wasn’t born and raised in the USA. Eastern Europe was a surprise, though; that wasn’t what she had been expecting.
“Did you inspect dental work?” Wiltshire asked.
“Not closely. He’s had some work done. You think it is significant?”
“Might go back to it when you’re done with the internal. See if you can tell where the work was done. We have some resources that will show where different types of work are done in the world. Amalgams or techniques used in certain countries but not in the US.”
“Okay. I’ll check that.” Kenzie continued to pull the long body of the tapeworm from the intestine. It seemed to be folded in on itself many times. She already had more than two meters free.
She glanced up at Dr. Wiltshire to see him smiling at her.
“What?”
“Do you know how long Taenia saginata gets?”
“Three meters?”
Wiltshire shook his head.
“Four?”
He grinned. “Sometimes nine or more.”
“You’re kidding.” Kenzie looked back down at her work. “Is there anything but tapeworm in this guy’s intestines?”
“It’s amazing how much tapeworm you can pack into one intestine. It might be a good idea to check for other parasites too. They can be very helpful in establishing the subject’s country of origin. Parasites are limited in their distribution.”
“Okay.”
“Take slides of each organ. They aren’t all as easy to see as tapeworms.”
Kenzie looked down at the coils of the parasite, shaking her head. At least she would have something interesting to tell Zachary when she visited him.
14
Kenzie made sure that everything was properly labeled with the victim’s file number and packed for shipment to the lab and that she had finished everything properly. She had stitched the Y incision closed carefully, though she wasn’t sure how important that would be to the family, if the man had one. His face had been pretty messed up. They wouldn’t likely want the body on display. A quick cremation would probably be preferable. She checked that her recording had been properly saved and automatically sent to the transcription company. The x-rays and other images were all saved to the file. She couldn’t think of anything else she might have missed. Dr. Wiltshire talked to the cops in the observation room, and they left without needing to speak with Kenzie.
George returned the body to the cold room. Kenzie retreated to the kitchen and Dr. Wiltshire joined her in a few minutes to get himself a cup of coffee.
Kenzie stood at the counter to prepare her coffee and tried to keep her face averted without making it obvious that she was doing so.
“You did a good job,” Wiltshire observed. “Very professionally done.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sure the police will be able to match him to a missing person file soon. If not, between what we have so far and what shows up on the lab work, we’ll be able to at least give them some information on his background that might help.”
“You said that tapeworm normally comes from Eastern Europe. That’s what the dental work looked like as well.”
“Good work. Make sure it is all documented in his report.”
Kenzie sipped her coffee, hoping he would return to his office without extending the conversation. He didn’t move. Kenzie tried to settle her expression before looking at him.
“Kenzie… what’s wrong?”
She swallowed.
“Is it Zachary? I’ve told you before, if you need to be with him… go. You can make up the time later, catch up when things quiet down.”
She shook her head. “It’s not Zachary.”
“What, then? Was it the violence of this case?”
Kenzie had assisted in autopsies that had been just as violent as the John Doe’s beating. So how could he think that was the answer?
“That man… I’ve seen him before.”
Dr. Wiltshire’s brows went way up. “Your John Doe? You mean you’ve seen him before?”
Kenzie nodded, temporarily unable to speak.
Dr. Wiltshire took Kenzie’s arm gently and steered her to one of the chairs at the lunchroom table they never used. Kenzie lowered herself into it, legs shaking. Dr. Wiltshire sat down across from her.
“Tell me about it.”
Kenzie coughed. She took a drink of coffee, cleared her throat, and attempted to speak clearly and unemotionally. There was a hard, hot lump in her throat, and she could barely squeak around it. Her eyes filled with tears, even though there was no excuse for it. No reason for her to be sad or angry or upset.
“At my mother’s house.”
He sat staring at her, waiting. Kenzie was glad that he wasn’t interrogating her and making demands that she answer each question that occurred to him. Or telling her she had to call the police and report it to them. But on the other hand, it would have been easier to answer yes/no questions than to come up with the words herself.
“On Christmas Day.”
Dr. Wiltshire’s face drained of color. Kenzie wasn’t talking about someone she’d just run into at the gas station. She wasn’t talking about an old acquaintance from decades before. She had seen the dead man just two days earlier on Christmas Day at her mother’s house.
He nodded to her to go on. Kenzie tried to figure out how to do that.
“I don’t…” She stopped sniffing, trying to keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know anything about him. Just his name. Maksim. That’s how she introduced him. But I don’t know… how she knew him or anything about it. It was… very strange.”
“She? Your mother?”
Kenzie nodded.
“You should have told me before you started the post. We could have switched.”
Kenzie nodded her agreement. She had known that she should say something to him at the time, but she couldn’t think of what to say or how to explain it to him. So she had just gone on with what was on the table in front of her.
“Did you talk to this man at your mother’s house?”
“Yes. Just to say ‘hello, nice to meet you.’ He was quiet, just sat to the side while I visited my mother.”
“Did he know who you were?”
“Just… her daughter. My name. We didn’t talk about the office. My mother doesn’t like me to talk about it. Work stuff.”
“Most people don’t,” Wiltshire agreed with a slight smile. “A certain amount of distaste over discussing the business of death in polite company.”
“Yeah.”
Kenzie looked around and found a box of tissues on the shelf behind her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She didn’t even understand why she was crying, why she felt so upset over the autopsy of a complete stranger. Just because she knew his name and had said hello to him?
But of course, it ran deeper than that.
Her concerns over her father not being there for Christmas and not being able to reach him. And not getting an answer from Lisa the last time she had called. Were her parents mixed up in something? Why would Lisa have a Russian immigrant in her house? One who appeared to have gotten on the wrong side of the mob? And why hadn’t Lisa been forthcoming about him when Kenzie had called her back later?
She’d worried that he was still there when Kenzie had called back. That he was monitoring her, preventing her from answering Kenzie’s questions or giving her any additional information. And now… he was dead. That should make her feel better. Relieve her worries that one or both of her parents might be involved in something unsavory.
“Who did your mother say he was when she introduced him?”
“She… she didn’t. She just said his name was Maksim. Not… where he was from or how she knew him. And he just sat there while we visited. He didn’t say anything. I thought he was French.”
“That’s not what the body would suggest. You didn’t hear him speak at all?”
“Just a sentence or two. I could tell he was foreign, but not where he was from.”
“Russian accents are usually pretty easy to recognize.”
“But he didn’t have an accent. He had… very precise diction. Hesitations. Like he had to think about the right words ahead of time.”
Wiltshire nodded slowly. “He went through some kind of speech training to get rid of his accent.”
“I think so. So I couldn’t tell what accent it was. Just that… he wasn’t a native English speaker.”
“You will need to add this information to your report.”
Kenzie shook her head. “Really? But I don’t know anything.”
“For the completeness of the report. You’re not prohibited from doing a postmortem on someone you know. It might not be encouraged. Most people would probably choose not to. But there’s nothing stopping you from autopsying someone you exchanged a few words with. Vermont is a very small state. I have ended up with someone I know on the table more often than I would like to admit.”
Kenzie was hesitant. She was afraid she would be forced to talk to the police about the circumstances under which she had met Maksim. She knew plenty of law enforcement officers. None of them had ever given her any trouble. They were both on the side of truth and justice. But she didn’t want to implicate her father or mother in something unsavory. Neither of them would be happy having to talk to the cops because she’d happened to meet someone at Lisa’s house that she would later end up autopsying.
But if Dr. Wiltshire said that was what she needed to do, then she would do it, of course. She couldn’t very well hide the fact that she knew at least part of the John Doe’s identity. And Lisa would, presumably, know the rest. His full name and how she had come to meet him. Once his identity was established, they would be able to talk to the people he knew and worked with, establish his schedule, and, hopefully figure out who had beaten him to death.
He deserved justice just like anyone else. Even if it was inconvenient for her or her parents.
15
After confessing to Dr. Wiltshire what she knew of the man she had autopsied, Kenzie felt better. The lump in her throat relaxed and went away, the tears dried up, and she didn’t feel so nauseated and shaky. It was no big deal. She wasn’t in trouble. It was just something that happened sometimes—a bizarre coincidence.
Sitting at her desk, she dialed Lisa’s number, praying that she would answer this time. Though she felt better, she was still uneasy about not being able to reach either of her parents and how Maksim had been connected to Lisa. Not just a casual acquaintance, but someone who had stayed at the house with her for at least a few hours. She didn’t like to think that they had been romantically involved but, of course, it was a possibility, and, if so, Kenzie should drive to her mother’s house to inform her of the developments rather than just calling her on the phone. But first, she needed to know that Lisa was okay.
“Hello, MacKenzie.”
“Oh, Mother.” Kenzie couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice. “Thank goodness. I’m so glad to hear your voice.”
There was a slight hesitation. “And I’m glad to hear yours, MacKenzie. Is something wrong?”
“Well… I don’t know. I just was wondering… have you seen or heard from Dad lately?”
“Walter? Well, we talk fairly regularly.”
“Have you talked to him? On Christmas Day or since then?”
“I don’t know.”
“But—” Kenzie cut herself off. Arguing or pointing out how silly it was for Lisa to say that she didn’t know whether she had talked to Walter in the past two days was not going to help anything. Kenzie could not put herself in an adversarial position. “I called him to wish him a Merry Christmas. But he didn’t answer and didn’t return my call.”
“He probably just forgot. Caught up in one of his lobbies.”
Just like Lisa got caught up in her causes.
“Yes, but I still can’t get him. I’ve been trying a few times a day, and he’s not answering the phone.”
“What number are you dialing?”
As if Kenzie might have forgotten her father’s phone number. Or he might have gotten it changed and not told her about it.
“I know his phone numbers.”
“I don’t know what to say, MacKenzie. Just keep trying. Sooner or later, he’ll answer.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
“At his home, I assume.”
“He didn’t go on a vacation or something?”
Lisa laughed. “A vacation? Your father? You’re kidding. When was the last time he went on a vacation?”
“I just hope there’s a good explanation for him not being around. Maybe he’s out of the country and has to use one of those cell phones that doesn’t work in the US. And he just… didn’t tell me because we haven’t been talking to each other lately.”
“Lately?” Lisa echoed. “As in, since Amanda died?”
Kenzie wasn’t sure what to say. Of course Lisa was right. Kenzie didn’t talk to her father at all if she could help it. Not since everything had come out. She should have forgiven him a long time ago but, as much as she wanted to say that it was okay and she could move on, every time she even considered letting him into her life, something else made her remember why she couldn’t trust him. No matter how much he loved her, he always put himself first. His opinion mattered more than hers. His morals and ideals were, of course, the only ones that mattered, and anyone who didn’t have the same ones was wrong. He made things happen. But sometimes, making things happen meant pushing other people around, letting other people get hurt in the process. And that was okay with Walter, as long as he got what he wanted in the end. He wasn’t opposed to someone not in his close circle getting hurt in furtherance of one of his goals. And sometimes, even someone inside that tight circle of family and friends.
“Mom…”
“MacKenzie.”
“Who is Maksim?”
“Oh.” Lisa sounded surprised at the change in the direction of the conversation. “Well… that’s personal, dear.”
“Personal. You said it was a business relationship. I just want to know who he is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… his full name, for one. Where he’s from. What he does. How you met. What he was doing at your house on Christmas Day—” Kenzie changed her mind about that one. “—I don’t care what he was doing there Christmas Day. Unless you want to tell me. But… who is he?”
“I wish I had the answers to your questions,” Lisa said vaguely, “but I don’t.”
“You don’t… know who he is?”
“No.”
“He was at your house!”
“Yes. But I don’t know him. It’s a long story and not one that I feel like sharing at this time. You’re just going to have to be satisfied with that.”
“With what? You haven’t told me anything. You don’t even know his last name?”
“No.”
“Or that he’s from Russia?”
Lisa’s voice was slightly higher. “From Russia? I never told you that.”
“But he is. Did you know that? Do you know anything about him?”
