Day of the Dead - J. A. Jance [103]
Fran Daly was suddenly all business and all interest. “What’s the deal?”
“We’re attempting to identify the father.”
“With decomposed DNA,” Fran said, nodding. “Was the body embalmed or not?”
“I don’t know,” Brandon said. “The mother was murdered. The fetus was examined in hopes of identifying the father and perhaps the perpetrator. The grandmother has no idea what was done to the body prior to its being returned to the reservation for burial.”
“What’s your connection to all this?” Fran asked.
“The case was never solved. The murdered girl’s mother—the baby’s grandmother—has asked an organization I’m affiliated with to see if we can find out what happened.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Fran said. “What’s it called—T. L. Something?”
“Right,” Brandon supplied. “TLC—The Last Chance. Emma Orozco, the grandmother, came to TLC for help. She also had the coffin exhumed and brought it to me.”
“In other words, this isn’t an official Pima County case,” Fran said.
“That’s right. It’s cold and not being actively investigated by anyone but me.”
“Given that, I doubt I could devote any time or people to this. Plus, if the tissue was embalmed, obtaining definitive results may not be possible. Besides, DNA testing is expensive.”
“A company in Washington State will do the actual testing,” Brandon interjected. “I’m asking you to attempt to collect a nonstandard tissue sample. If you’ll agree to try, I’ll have Genelex send you a collection kit.”
For a moment, Fran Daly sat with her fingers templed under her chin. Finally she made up her mind. “Where’s the coffin now?” she asked.
“Out front,” Brandon said. “In the back of my Suburban.”
Fran sighed. “Bring it around to the side door. I’ll have one of my assistants check it in.”
“Much appreciated. Should the collection kit be sent to your attention?”
Fran Daly nodded. “Yes, but we’ll only work on this as time permits. One thing for sure, though: If you’re looking to establish a chain of evidence…”
“How about we go for results first and worry about the chain of evidence later?” Brandon asked.
“You bet,” Fran replied with a smile. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re still the boss.”
Twenty-Two
Brian’s initial call to Yuma didn’t go well. It took hardly any time at all for him to figure out Lieutenant Jimmy Detloff of the Yuma County Sheriff’s Department was a jerk.
“That hacked-up UDA?” he returned when Brian inquired about the girl whose body had been found in a trash bag not far from a rest area on Interstate 8. “Why are you asking about her?” Detloff continued. “That case happened years ago.”
“We have reason to believe it’s happened again,” Brian returned. “AFIS got a hit. A fingerprint on a new case matches one from the garbage bag your victim was found in.”
“Oh,” Detloff said. “I remember that now. Our new little fingerprint gal was really proud of herself for finding it. We’d just gotten our AFIS computer up and running. She was all hot to trot to put that one print into the system. Didn’t do any good. Nothing came of it at the time.”
It has now, you creep, Brian thought. He said, “What did you come up with?”
“On that case?” Detloff said. “Not much.”
“You never identified any suspects?”
“Are you kidding? We never identified the victim, to say nothing of a suspect. Like I said, she was a UDA. They die like flies around here, especially in the summer, and who cares? If we tried to track down what happened to every damned wetback who ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, we’d never get anything else done. End of story.”
A creep and a bigot! Brian thought. “Not quite the end,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate having a faxed copy of the file—including the autopsy results—as soon as you can send it to me. I have the AFIS summary, but I need the rest.”
Detloff sighed. “That’ll take time. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get around to it. I have other cases to deal with—current cases.”
“I’m sure you do,” Brian said. There was no sense pissing him off. “Whenever you get around to it will be fine.”
He