The Hungry Bones, page 19
Her eyes widened. “Don’t know. It’s probably a mistake.”
Alexa wadded up the towel.
“Or maybe when Eileen gave Susie a ride home after driving lessons. Maybe I opened the door for her. I don’t know.”
“All good,” came Constable Blume’s voice from the kitchen. “Is this for me? Spot on.” He came into the lounge holding a mug. “What’s this then? Are you okay, Ms. Glock?”
Alexa got up. “We had a little spill.”
“Vinegar will help, my mum says.” He colored.
“Never heard of that.” Alexa wondered if he still lived at home. Maybe that’s why he blushed. “Mr. Tandy will be back soon. He gone to fetch their daughter.”
“Why don’t you sit, ma’am?” Constable Blume said.
Suddenly Misty was crying. Alexa raced down the hall for the box of tissues she’d seen in the bathroom. When she returned, Constable Blume was sitting with Misty on the couch, calmly talking about victim support counselors. “You can call, 24/7,” he said.
The front door, which Alexa could see from where she stood, flung open. A girl, all legs, swirl of colors, ran in. “Mummy!”
Winter 1903
冬天
Dear MaMa,
A flood swept away five miners camped along the Arrow River. Forty souls were buried in an avalanche at Separation Creek. Do not worry for First Son. This rock store I helped Cheong Tam build withstands the howling winter. My bunk is built into the rock next to the chimney, and the smooth river stone retains the heat of warm summer days. Brother Tam tends to me even in death.
金石之交: Our friendship is as strong as gold.
I fulfill my duty for you to buy the house and with honor present the funds with this cheque. I earned this money from running Tam’s store. Second Brother is past the age of school. Please use leftover for his children’s schooling.
Only seven of us are left on the banks of Bush Creek. Wun Long and Hon Tie have despondency of heart and addiction in their bodies. We are called ‘Chinkie’ by the townsfolk, but my fine vegetables and teas bring them to my threshold. A hidden Pearl among the slag lifts my lonesome heart. I sing like the robins who keep me company.
Like tea leaves added to the cup: first floating on the surface—my birthplace—and then sinking to the bottom—Arrowtown, I will live out my days here, finding happiness at last.
MaMa, you are a thousand pieces of gold.
Faithful First Son,
Wing Lun
Chapter Thirty-Two
As soon as the family liaison arrived, Alexa and the constable escaped the Tandy house. Constable Blume scowled at the various cars in the driveway. Mr. Tandy’s sedan was behind his patrol car, and the liaison’s car was next to them. “Gridlock,” he said.
Alexa wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. Mr. Tandy had called them worthless and liable. Misty blubbered harder. Then the husband accused them of causing his wife’s distress. He ripped the tissue box out of Alexa’s hand and thrust it at Misty. The daughter Susie stood immobile, hugging herself, her hands buried in her sleeves. “Aunt Leeny,” she cried over and over.
The family liaison’s name was Bridget Kies. She would be the conduit between the Tandys and police, and work to build their trust and respect.
Good luck with that.
“Mr. Tandy is a jerk,” Alexa said in the driveway. His accusations had smarted. Despite their failure to find Eileen alive, everyone—police, volunteers, SAR, tracker dogs—had worked hard on her behalf.
“People need someone to blame,” Constable Blume said.
“How are we going to get out?” she asked.
“Miss? Can I talk to you?”
Alexa turned. The daughter had followed them outside. She prayed Susie hadn’t heard what she’d said about her father. Foot-in-mouth again. “Sure,” Alexa said. “But can you get your dad to move his car? We’re blocked in.”
Susie sniffed and walked toward the sedan. “I can do it. I have my learner license.”
“Bet you’re a good driver,” Constable Blume said, “but I’ll move it. That way you can speak with Ms. Glock.”
Susie relinquished the keys from the front kangaroo-pouch pocket of her tie-dyed hoodie. She had her mother’s wide-set chestnut eyes and brown hair, but hers was styled in a bouncy way. A red splotch on her jawline looked inflamed, and she scratched at it while Constable Blume started the car. “Mum said you found Aunt Leeny.”
“I didn’t find her. A tracker dog did.” Was that too graphic? “Let’s get out of the constable’s way.” The driveway was gravel, with weeds sprouting here and there. Alexa walked toward the middle house and Susie followed. “I’m sorry about your aunt. Were you close?”
Susie buried her hands in her pocket. “Aunt Leeny is fun to hang with. She’s way cool. I mean, she was way cool. I was, um, like a daughter to her.”
Alexa hoped Benny and Noah would think she was way cool. But why would they? I’m eight thousand miles away. “Did your aunt give you driving lessons?”
Susie nodded. She was Alexa’s height, but several inches came from her platform tennis shoes. “How did you know? Why are you asking me questions?”
Fair enough. Alexa leaned down and yanked out a weed. “I’m not sure how your aunt died. The forensic pathologist is with her body. He’ll find out and let your family know.”
“But that man did it, right? Earl Hammer?”
Alexa wondered what was happening at the Chinese settlement. Had they caught him? “We don’t know.”
The teen kicked into the gravel. “Well, did she like, suffer?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can tell you really loved her, your aunt.”
“I didn’t think she was selfish. Mum did, but I didn’t.”
She pulled her right hand out and checked her nails. They were blue and chipped. Then she met Alexa’s eyes. “What will happen to Aunt Leeny’s car?”
Alexa kept her face neutral. What was the expression? Barely cold in the grave? “I don’t know. Hopefully she has a will.”
Susie kicked the gravel again. “On one of our driving lessons she said she’d give it to me when I graduated. It’s almost new.”
Before Alexa replied, Susie slouched away, her sweatshirt covering her short-shorts, her pale thighs and legs bare. Was she a distraught niece or a gravedigger?
In the patrol car, Constable Blume put a finger to his lips. “Repeat,” he said into the radio.
A voice replied, “Suspect spotted on Arrow River Bridge Trail.”
“They’re closing in,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The drive between Misty’s house and the hospital was short. Alexa talked Constable Blume into a quick stop at the hospital canteen, where she bought a yogurt and a stale lemon scone. The constable watched her eat. Alexa felt defensive and checked her messages: Dr. Sally Weiner had CCed her on an email to Ana:
DNA from S2’s molar indicates a distant relative in Otago area. (This person completed a FamilyTree ancestry kit.) I contacted match through website to see if he/she wants to be involved.
Strontium isotopic analysis results: geographical area of childhood residence is also Otago area.
Alexa got goose bumps; S2 had spent her childhood in New Zealand. She had most likely been born here. And died violently here.
“I’m ready,” she said, throwing out her trash.
“Not sure I am,” Constable Blume said.
Dr. McKenzie was in the anteroom. “We meet again,” he said to Alexa, and then introduced himself to Constable Blume.
How strange it must be to go from examining skeletal remains in the morning to dissecting a fresh corpse in the afternoon, Alexa thought.
“Now that someone from the police department is here, we can get started,” Dr. McKenzie said.
Constable Blume shot Alexa a look, which she interpreted as “You made this man wait while you fed yourself.” Oh, well. She couldn’t think straight on an empty stomach.
“Manhunt for Hammer, I heard on the news.” Dr. McKenzie gestured to a computer screen. “The remains have undergone a full-body CT scan.”
“Did you find anything?” Alexa asked.
“No foreign bodies, no other fractures except to the skull.” He pointed to the screen.
There were jagged lines in the lower right side of the skull. Dr. McKenzie pointed to the largest line. “The fracture follows a linear pattern.” He moved the pen lower. “The blow resulted in a depressed fracture.”
It hurt Alexa’s head to look. “A single blow?”
“Most likely.”
“Can you tell what she was hit with?”
“No.” He closed the CT scan and opened up a report. “These are my notes from my initial exam of the body.”
His phone rang. He answered as Alexa and Constable Blume skimmed the report.
EXTERNAL EXAMINATION
The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished, white female, 42 years of age, identified as Eileen Katherine Bowen. The body length is 165.1 cm and the estimated body weight is 62 kg. Body wrapped in vinyl bath curtain, clothed. Scalp hair is blond. Swelling on forehead. The right temporo-parietal area is fractured. No conjunctival petechiae. Soil in nose and mouth. Teeth are natural and in good condition. Ears single pierced, one earring present, right lobe. Left hole is torn, no earring. Two nails on right hand jagged. The breasts are symmetrical. The abdomen is slightly distended. The external genitalia are those of a female adult. No sign of vaginal tearing. The anus has no evidence of injury. The following scars are present: left knee, lower-right abdomen. No tattoos or birthmarks detected.
A life: snuffed out. A body: summed up.
Alexa traded her hiking boots for the gum boots, courtesy of the hospital, and advised Constable Blume to do the same. Unlike examining the skeleton a few hours ago, an autopsy on a fresh body could be messy, though most of the body fluids would be funneled to the side troughs of the exam table and into the sink. She started scrubbing her hands.
Dr. McKenzie aborted his call. “That was the FLO.”
“The flow?”
“Family liaison officer. Ms. Bowen’s family objects to a postmortem and requests an external examination only.”
Alexa scrubbed her nails with a brush. “We just met her—the FLO—and left the family. Why are they objecting?”
“The FLO didn’t elaborate. She only told me as a formality. The body is part of a criminal investigation, so the coroner denied the request.”
Alexa looked up at him. He smiled before pulling on protective goggles. “You don’t have to scrub so hard. It’s not like our patients can catch anything from you.”
He had a point.
Alexa thought of suffocation by soil—a fate she hoped Eileen hadn’t suffered. “Will you be able to tell if she was dead before she was buried? That would comfort the family.”
“Lividity may us help determine that.”
Alexa reviewed what she knew about lividity. When circulations ceases, blood settles to the lowest parts of the body due to gravity and results in reddish-purple discoloration of the skin. After a certain time—she couldn’t remember how many hours—the discoloration becomes fixed and won’t disappear even if the body is moved from one location to another.
A woman rushed in. “Sorry I’m late. Snafu in the lab.”
Dr. McKenzie introduced her as Ms. Bashar. “Best tech there is. Her Sam just turned ten. Did he like the karaoke machine? Our grandson picked it out.”
Ms. Bashar wore a hijab and scrubs. “He’s a crack-up with it. I appreciate that the amplifier is detachable.”
She and the doctor laughed, then turned sober. They gloved up and entered the autopsy suite where Eileen’s body was waiting. Alexa and Constable Blume followed.
Dr. McKenzie took his place by Eileen’s head. “I’ll summarize the known circumstances. The deceased was discovered by a cadaver dog buried twenty-two inches deep at…”
Alexa forced herself to look. Eileen was naked. Her shoulders balanced on a rest so that her neck was extended and her head tipped back. Her limbs were splayed, and her skin tone was slack. Her belly was slightly distended and greenish. Was there a chance Eileen was pregnant, or was the distention the work of erupting gases under the skin? More work for blood tests to determine, Alexa supposed.
Eileen had not been washed. Her hair was stiff with dried blood. A fruity smell emanated from her body. Ms. Bashar took photographs as the doctor spoke.
“…removed from ground at 14:40 hours. No weapon recovered with body.” The doctor cleared his throat. “Does that sum things up, Constable Blume?”
He nodded earnestly.
Alexa studied him for signs of paleness or perspiration; the constable was bearing up well. He was a better cop than he gave himself credit for.
Alexa shared the temperature readings she had taken at the grave.
The doctor added them to his notes. “Ms. Bashar, will you open the medical examination kit now?”
Ms. Bashar set aside the camera and broke the seal on a brown box. She extracted containers for the hair, fingernail clippings, and hand swabs that Dr. McKenzie collected. Ms. Bashar would seal the box and turn it over to Constable Blume at the end of the autopsy.
Next Dr. McKenzie examined Eileen’s eyes, nose, ears, and forehead. “There’s slight swelling here. She may have fallen forward or been pushed.”
Alexa hadn’t noticed the bruise earlier. She had avoided staring at Eileen’s face after her initial viewing. It distressed her knowing Eileen had been alive Thursday morning, going about her day, maybe dreading the school board meeting, and ended up dead.
She needed to disassociate, to be unclouded by emotion.
Dr. McKenzie probed through the hair, grunted, and asked Ms. Bashar for help in flipping the body. They did it proficiently, but one of Eileen’s arms flung off the table, almost touching Alexa. She shuddered as she placed it along Eileen’s side.
Eileen’s shoulder blades, buttocks, thighs, and calves displayed mottled purple-red lividity.
“What was her body position in the grave?” Dr. McKenzie asked.
Alexa answered before Constable Blume could speak. “She was lying on her right side, legs straight, ankles crossed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Livor mortis suggests she spent the hours after death on her back. She was somewhere else before she was buried.”
Killed, stored, and then buried.
“Shave around the wound, Ms. Bashar,” he instructed.
Each scrape of the razor horrified Alexa. Eileen’s hair—ruined. Her head—ruined.
When Ms. Bashar finished, Dr. McKenzie positioned a magnifying light over the wound and leaned in. After a moment’s silence he said, “A full thickness laceration involving skin and subcutaneous tissue.”
“Full thickness? What does that mean?” Alexa asked.
“Down to the bone,” Dr. McKenzie said.
The gash was deep and ugly, and the skull looked concave. Alexa’s stomach roiled.
“Any idea of what type weapon was used?” Constable Blume asked.
“It could be from a tool, a rock, even from a fall.”
“A rock?” the constable asked. “Like Cindy Mulligan?”
Dr. McKenzie shrugged. “I can say her skull was fractured by the velocity of a blow or fall.”
“But we need to know,” Constable Blume blurted.
“The wounds are nonspecific.” He measured the size of the wound and its location. “A blunt force injury to the head is the best I can do for cause of death.”
“Can I look through the magnifier?” Alexa asked.
Dr. McKenzie stood back as Alexa leaned in. Up close, the gash lost its power to horrify her. In the margins she spotted grains of sand. She asked for forceps, extracted them, and dropped them in a vial Ms. Bashar held ready. “Might have come from the murder scene, eh?” Ms. Bashar said.
It more likely came from the grave, but it was worth examining in the lab. Ms. Bashar added the evidence to the exam kit.
Dr. McKenzie instructed Ms. Bashar to take fluid and blood samples. Then he told Alexa, “Your presence isn’t required for the cutting part of the procedure.”
Alexa fought to keep the relief from showing.
“Do you have a moment to look at my findings from this morning?” Dr. McKenzie asked.
Switching gears took a moment. “On the skeletal remains?”
“Our Jane Doe of European descent. I’ll give you a quick recap in my office.”
“I just received the strontium isotopic analysis results from her molar. She spent her childhood in Otago.”
“Interesting,” Dr. McKenzie said.
Alexa glanced at Constable Blume; he looked like a stricken child. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Let me know when you deliver the examination kit to the station.”
She and the doctor threw aprons, masks, and gloves in the bin. Dr. McKenzie moved to the sink. “This is when I scrub.”
Alexa followed suit, changed back into her boots, grabbed her kit, and followed him to a cramped office one floor up. She was happy to see a window and blinked. The cars in the hospital parking lot were glazed with rain.
Dr. McKenzie handed her a skeletal diagram with two highlighted areas: neck and lumbar. He sighed and sat down in his desk chair.
Alexa studied the diagram.
“The findings aren’t official, and they aren’t pretty.” Dr. McKenzie picked up an identical diagram. “The injuries support my theory.”
“Which is?” Alexa asked.
“Jane Doe was shoved to the ground. Then the attacker knelt on her spine, snapping it, and wrenched her neck backward.”
“Jeez. Are you opening a case?”
“Everyone who knew her is dead. This will stay an unsolved mystery.”
Alexa bristled. Someone had gotten away with murder.
