Page 93 of Evil Bones
The paper bag, placed on the man’s hand at the scene, was removed. His nails were scraped and clipped, his fingers inked and rolled for prints.
Following careful external observation and X-ray scanning, a Y-incision was cut. The rib cage and skull were sawed. The brain and internal organs were removed and sectioned. Tissue samples and ocular fluid were collected for possible toxicology and other testing.
The autopsy revealed no surprises.
Bandanna man was a Black male who’d weighed one hundred and seventy-two pounds and stood five feet nine inches tall. His bones were slightly porous but, given his age, not abnormally so. His joints showed some early arthritic remodeling.
Fractures in the man’s jaw and eight right ribs attested to a long-ago auto or bike accident, maybe a fall. Every break had healed well.
There were no tattoos, surgical or traumatic scars, birthmarks, skin lesions, or other abnormalities.
Livor mortis, a purple discoloration due to the settling of blood on the corpse’s downside, indicated that the body hadn’t been moved after death.
The teeth totaled only fourteen in number. Yellowing and extensive decay suggested a lack of concern with dental hygiene.
Trace evidence collected from the man and his clothing, now drying on a rack, consisted of soil, pebbles, vegetation, six beetles, one spider, and a boatload of ants.
I’d harvested the right pubic symphysis and the medial end of one clavicle. Developmental changes on both pointed to an age of fifty, plus or minus ten years.
Sadly, the man carried nothing to help with an ID. No wallet. No driver’s license. No insurance, Medicaid, Medicare, or Social Security card. No watch or amulet with a name engraved on the back. No initials penned onto the labels of his undies.
The State Bureau of Investigation is North Carolina’s central repository for criminal history record information based on fingerprints. We started with the SBI’s Computerized Criminal History File, the CCH. Got no hit.
The AFIS, or Automated Fingerprint Identification System, is primarily managed by the FBI under the name Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System, IAFIS. The database includes 185 million prints of individuals who have been arrested, undergone background checks for certain types of employment or licensing, and are known or suspected terrorists. We went there next. Again, bombed out.
By the time Nguyen and I finished, it was well past seven. Stripping off my scrubs, I took another quick shower, changed into street clothes, and headed out.
Walking from my car to the Annex, the air felt like a warm, moist blanket on my skin. The sun was low, tinting the grounds and buildings of Sharon Hall with a yellow-pink watercolor wash.
Approaching my unit, I heard voices singing “Volare.” Both were soprano, one was off-key.
A tsunami of aromas engulfed me when I opened the kitchen door. Tomato. Oregano. Fresh baked bread.
Mental head slap.
I’d invited Katy and Ruthie for dinner. They’d accepted but insisted on doing the cooking. A subtle comment on my culinary skills?
“Hey, guys.” Masking any surprise I was feeling.
Katy was at the sink, Ruthie at the stove. Both turned, my niece pantomiming a handheld mic with a large wooden spoon.
They sang in unison.
Volare oh, oh,
Cantare oh, oh…
“Bellissimo,”I said, digging deep for any remnants of Italian still stored in my left hemisphere.
“È la notte degli spaghetti!”Katy announced, flourishing one hand.
“Splendida.”I set my purse on the counter. “Are you finding everything you need?”
“Si.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“No, signora!”Katy feigned horror at the idea. “Please relax. The moment our final guest arrives, the chefs are ready to plate their creation.”
