The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [49]
“No handcuffs,” he finally answered, and continued to search his scraps of paper.
She wished he would relax. Tully was usually the laid-back one. She was the quick-tempered, hotheaded one, the loose cannon. He was the steady, let’s-think-before-we-leap type. It unnerved her how uptight he seemed to be. Something was wrong. Something more than his discomfort with witnessing an autopsy.
“You know, Tully,” she said, “they make these really cool contraptions with sheets of paper all tacked together. They’re called notebooks, and you can even get them small enough to fit into your pocket.”
Tully frowned at her over his glasses and went back to his notes.
“Very funny. My system works just fine.”
“Of course, it does. As long as you don’t blow your nose.”
Racine laughed.
“Humpf.” Stan Wenhoff didn’t have time for a sense of humor. He motioned to Maggie for help, wanting to hoist the body onto its side for a quick search of any other lacerations.
“Why is her bottom so red?” Racine asked. “The rest of her seems to have this bluish tint, but her ass is all red. Is that weird or what?” Racine attempted a nervous laugh.
Stan sighed, exhaling what sounded like a day’s worth of sighs. He was not the most patient medical examiner when it came to explanations. Maggie got the impression he would post No Visitors signs if allowed. They eased the body back. And Stan turned around to peel off his gloves and begin his hand-washing ritual again.
“It’s called livor mortis, or the bruising of death,” Maggie said when it was obvious Stan wasn’t going to answer.
She watched and waited for him to stop her. Instead, he nodded for her to continue. “When the heart stops pumping, the blood stops circulating. All the red cells are literally pulled by the force of gravity to the lowest area, usually the area of the body that’s in contact with the ground. The blood cells start breaking down and separating into the muscle tissue. After about two hours, the entire area looks like this, sort of one big reddish bruise. That is, if the body hasn’t been moved.”
“Wow!” Maggie could feel Racine staring at her. “Does that mean she died sitting up?”
Maggie hadn’t thought about it before, but Racine was probably right. Why would the killer have positioned the girl’s body while she was still alive? Without asking, she looked to Stan for him to confirm or deny Racine’s observation. As the silence stretched out, he finally realized they were waiting for him to respond. He turned around, tugging on a fresh pair of gloves.
“My early guesstimate would be, yes. I’m curious, though. She has almost a pinkish-red tint to her. I’ll need to have toxicology check for any poisons.”
“Poisons?” Racine attempted another of her nervous laughs. “Stan, this kid was obviously strangled.”
“Really, Detective? You believe that to be obvious, do you?”
“Well, maybe not entirely obvious.”
Stan took this opportunity to choose a scalpel from the tray of instruments, and Racine’s eyes grew wide. Maggie knew they had reached that moment Racine had been dreading since she arrived. Stan started the Y incision.
“Wait.” Maggie stopped him, but it wasn’t to save Racine. There was something she wanted to check, now curious. If the girl had still been alive when sitting up, maybe strangulation wasn’t the cause of death. “Do you mind if we take a look at the ligature marks on her neck first?”
“Fine. Let’s take a look at the ligature marks on her neck first.” Wenhoff sighed again and set the scalpel aside, purposely clanking it against the other metal instruments.
Maggie knew he was doing his best to restrain his impatience, though his pudgy face betrayed him with its unnatural shade of red. Sweat beads filled his receding hairline. He was used to doing things his own way and his audiences keeping their mouths shut. That he humored her at all, Maggie regarded as Stan’s ultimate show of respect.