Page 39 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Cracks the shell, but the wound is all wrong. Weird as it may seem, this came closest.” He handed the glass ashtray to MacAdams.
“It’s heavy enough,” he agreed. “But—”
“But ashtrays don’t make good murder weapons, eh? I agree.” Struthers sighed.
MacAdams looked at the object in his hand. Ungainly. Yes, he could probably wield it, but it would be better as a missile.
“Do you think someone threw it at him?”
“I do not. You lose a lot of force that way. But—” He took it back and swung it downward, for effect. “Say your opponentis already down. On his knees, maybe. Or you are on higher ground. That would do it.”
“You’re saying this is my murder weapon?”
“I amnot,” Struthers said, taking it back. “But heavy glass would do the trick, and might explain the complete lack of residue, fiber or filings in the wound. People have been killed with all sorts of strange objects. I once presided over a man done in by a tennis trophy.”
MacAdams wasn’t sure coconut smashing counted as forensics, but it proved one thing at least—
“No oneplansto kill someone with a thing like this, do they? Planners use practical, surefire weapons.”
“Unpremeditated, you mean?” Struthers asked.
MacAdams nodded. “If the murderer used something like this, they chose whatever was to hand.” He looked at the chunk of glass, thinking of the modern glass sculptures populating Ava’s music room. Defensive, wasn’t she? Ready to deny all knowledge of her husband’s business—and his partner. He’d found it hard to believe then. Now that suspicion took a slightly darker hue.
“You said you had something else to show me?” he asked.
“Two somethings. We’ll start with the curious and graduate to the strange. Come have a look.” He led MacAdams to the table with his sandwich, a small cardboard box—and a microscope. “First, your golden earring. I’m shocked it wasn’t pummeled to bits by our boots. Lucky anyone noticed it.”
He lifted the tiny object from the box and placed it on a piece of black foam. MacAdams judged it to be about the size of a pound coin, maybe smaller. Sort of a half-moon shape, it had been adorned with filigree work.
“Very pure, maybe twenty-four or twenty-six karat. That’s called box construction, according to our jeweler friend. More specifically,‘open-work S-curve crescent with an arabesque design.’” Struthers turned it sideways, to show the “box”; the earring was hollow, like a basket.
“Does that help us identify it?” MacAdams asked.
“That’s the curious bit. The design, I’m told, was popular in Egypt and North Africa, Spain, India and Turkey... in the eleventh century.”
MacAdams’s attention to the objet d’arthad wandered, but this news recalled it. He stared again at the exotic-looking disk.
“You’re telling me that’s a thousand years old?” he asked.
“Well, thedesignis. There’s no hallmark stamp, and you can’t carbon-dategold. It might have been made last week to mimic the design. In any case, it’s a pricey piece, handmade and not mass-produced. If you know an antiques dealer, they might be able to say with more certainty.”
In fact, MacAdams did know one. He made a mental note to see if jewelry was one of Gwilym’s many specialties.
“I don’t suppose this jeweler friend had any guesses as to who might have made it?” MacAdams asked.
Struthers shook his head. “None he knew of—he reiterated how rare it was, then actually suggested we seek out a museum professional.”
MacAdams sighed.Curious, yes, but not especially helpful. “All right, show me thestrange.”
“Ah. You know those white patches noted by DS Green? Not vitiligo. I’ve performed a few tests, and it’s true, the skin has been damaged. But it’s not an abrasion, disease or fungus.”
Struthers indicated the microscope, and MacAdams peered through the lens at tissue on a slide. At high magnification, he saw mainly ridges. When he came up for air, Struthers was smiling giddily.
“The tissue has been severely dehydratedafterdeath,” Struthers said. “And punctured by crystals. Does that help?”
MacAdams looked back to the sample. “It doesn’t.”
“Freezer burn,” Struthers said, and MacAdams blinked hard. It had just called up the brown-white of beef left too long in the back of the icebox.
