Code 61 - Donald Harstad [72]
The third item was what we used to call “pay dirt.” It was in the center, lower drawer under the huge bed. A knife, and an unusual one at that, wrapped in a cloth with dark, reddish stains that appeared to be blood.
The knife was really strange-looking. I suppose it was nearly sixteen inches overall, with a blade some eight to nine inches long. The handle was slightly curved downward, ebony, and with a silver metal butt cap that was shaped like an eagle's head. The beak on that bird looked very sharp. The blade itself was the really weird part. It was about three inches wide, tapering sharply to a very fine, slightly up-curved point. It was a double-bladed knife, so the blade looked as if it had had about a quarter-inch slot just ground out all along its length, making two blades, effectively. The inside edges of both halves had been sharpened, too. Four cutting surfaces for the price of two, so to speak. The thing that really struck me about the knife, though, was that slot between the blades. I vividly remembered the lump of muscle protruding from Edie's neck wound. With this knife, it would have been easy to snag muscle in the slot, and if there was any twisting, to effectively pull muscle and other tissues right back out of the wound.
“This could be it,” I said.
“Sure is big enough,” said Grothler.
“You mean the split in the blade?” said Hester, to me. “Snagging tissue?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “It looks like that'd do it.” It would explain the number of cuts inside the wound as well. Not so many thrusts, but twice the cutting surface.
“Could well be,” said Hester, reaching for an evidence bag.
We also found some fairly benign sorts of things that might have a bearing on the case. One was an antique crystal candy dish, with a silver lid, containing a number of small white pills. They seemed to have cartoon characters pressed into them. I saw Woody Woodpecker, for sure.
Hester looked carefully at the container, and chuckled. “Ecstasy. Possibly from Holland.” She pointed to the elaborate initial etched into the silver lid. It was an “E,” very much embellished. It, too, was seized as evidence.
There was another bottle, green glass with a brass top, and mounted in a brass tube with legs. Antique, too, I thought. It contained a number of dark green pills, smallish, with a horizontal break line and the numeral 6. Curving across the top was a word, which I could only make out with the help of my reading glasses. “Coumadin.” We all knew that was a blood thinner, but weren't sure just how many different conditions would require its prescription. It was also an anticoagulant. Hester and I exchanged glances over that one, and she nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I think so, too,” I said. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if the lab found a quantity of Coumadin in Edie's tissue samples.”
Another container, this time an old 250ml Erlen meyer flask, graduated, held a large number of coated, pink pills with the inscription “Mellaril 200.” No idea on that one.
The last pill jar was a deep red, also appeared to be antique, with silver scrollwork and a silver stopper. Eighteen blue, diamond-shaped pills, with a brand name on one side and the inscription “VGR50.”
“Anybody know what this is?” I held one out in my hand.
“Hang on to it, Houseman,” said Hester, with a grin. “You may need it sooner than you think.”
I bit, I admit it. From her comment, I sort of assumed it might have something to do with Alzheimer's, or something like that. “Memory stimulant?”
“Probably, in your case, that would be all it is,” she said, laughing. “It's Viagra, Houseman.”
“Oh.” I put it back. “Hey, I'm sorta proud I didn't know what it was.”
“That's the memory part,” she said.
We were all aware of the fact that most of the seized pills appeared to be prescription drugs. We were also aware that we'd not found