Code 61 - Donald Harstad [22]
Lamar.
“Yeah, Lamar. You might want to stay out there…. ”
I was too late, because as I turned to go to the bedroom, Lamar came to the doorway of the bathroom. His limp was more pronounced than usual, like it got when he was really tired. Don't ever let somebody tell you that gunshot wounds go away, even after years have gone by.
He stopped, more from habit of not disturbing the scene than out of any kind of surprise or shock. We'd both been to these things before, many times. For me to try to intercept his gaze, or to usher him back into the bedroom, would have been an insult. So I just stepped aside and let him look. He took about a full minute, and then cleared his throat.
“Suicide, ya think?”
“Not sure yet, Lamar.”
“Probably, though?”
“Probably, yes. The ME hasn't gotten here yet. I have some questions about those bruises.”
He looked directly at me for the first time since I'd heard his voice. “I know we hear this all the time … but she just wasn't the type, Carl.”
“She did try it before.”
“That was before she had the kid,” he said. “That little girl of hers means too much to her. She'd never leave her this way.”
I didn't say anything.
“The kid's been with my sister most of the time,” said Lamar. “Edie, here, hates that, and hates her mom, too.” He paused, and corrected himself. “Hated. Anyway, she's been trying to get back on her feet, get the kid back. She'd never give up like this.”
Some things are really hard to say, particularly to a friend. But you just have to, sometimes. “That could be, boss,” I said. “That could be. But we better wait for the toxicology report, you know.”
“Yeah. But I don't think she does dope anymore.”
“Okay.”
“But you're right.”
We both looked at Edie for a few moments.
“The neck, they said?”
“Yeah, and that bothers me a little, too. At least for now.”
He made no move to advance, to see the wound himself. “Oh?”
“I can't get a real good look until we move her, but … ”
He looked at me, eyebrows raised. I didn't want to promote any ideas, but he was also my boss.
“You know how self-inflicted wounds like this tend to look like the subject was trying to saw wood? Back and forth, angle changes, and lots of small cuts and scratches where they're off, and where they hesitate?”
He nodded.
“This looks like a one-shot deal to me. So far, anyway. Sure no hesitation marks.” I shrugged. “We don't want to read too much into that, but that's what it looks like.”
“Yeah?” Lamar looked at me expectantly.
“And the bruises, like I said. On the other hand,” I went on, “there's no sign of a struggle in the vicinity of the tub, or in the next room. You can see that. There's no clothes or anything. Either that she took off or that were laid out for her to put on. Like she was never going to get out of the tub, and knew that.” I took a breath. “The clothes bit bothers me, Lamar. I have to admit … ”
We were both quiet for a while.
“You gonna need help on this? At least for a while?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. Another officer never hurt. There always seemed something for them to do. “Borman will be okay.”
“You sure?” asked Lamar. “He's takin' those social worker classes…. ”
“Yeah, that's okay,” I said. “He needs the experience, and he's already halfway familiar with the case.”
“You got him, then. Did I tell you that Doc Zimmer's doing the workup?”
“Okay. That's good.” Dr. Henry Zimmer, a local MD. Acting as a Deputy County Medical Examiner, being closest physician to the scene. At this point, we didn't require a forensic pathologist; we needed someone to pronounce Edie dead. We couldn't do that, and it was considered bad manners to just drop an obviously deceased at the nearest ER.
“And DCI, maybe?” Lamar asked.
DCI was the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. As a state agency, if we called for one of their agents, if we needed a forensic pathologist, he'd be charged to them. Along with the crime scene processing team, if needed. Tempting. But the state was busy, too, and we always hate to call DCI unless we really need them.
“Probably not yet, Lamar,” I said.