Page 91 of Evil Bones
I obliged, assuring her that the McDowell case was linked to the earlier animal displays. Cited specifics.
Repeating that she was sorry for needlessly interrupting my day, Nguyen said there was no need for me to remain on site. She promised to phone Hawkins to authorize transfer of the body to the morgue.
After disconnecting, I watched Acorn, still engaged in animated conversation. Wondered. Why wasn’t he asking the usual cop questions about victim profile, body treatment, cause of death, PMI?
While I’d inspected and photographed the dead man, Slidell had walked over to talk to Winslow and Hawkins. Skinny rejoined us now.
“Doc,” he said, nodding to me as he swiped a sweaty forearm across his sweaty brow.
“Detective.”
“Harve,” he said, wagging his chin at Acorn.
“Erskine.”
Slidell looked back at me. “What’s your take?” He produced a small notebook with a stub of pencil shoved into the spiral binding.
“You know anything I say now will be very—” I began.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Spit-thumbing pages and positioning the stub over one.
“The deceased appears to be male.”
“No!” Skinny slapped the pad to his chest in faux shock.
“Do you want to hear this?”
Slidell circled an impatient wrist.
“Based on skin color and hair type I suspect he’s of African ancestry.”
“The guy’s Black.”
“Yes.”
“Age?”
“There’s some graying at his temples, some sag at the jawline and below the eyes, but his teeth look goo—”
“I don’t need the whole frickin’ medical file.”
“Without X-rays and dissection this is very preliminary,” I said, cool as glacial runoff. “But I’d estimate he’s somewhere between forty and sixty.”
Slidell’s eyes rolled up, brows angled low.
“You’re shitting me, right?” he said.
“At this point that’s the best I can do.”
“That age range includes half the planet.”
“Hardly.”
Slidell mumbled something I didn’t catch.
“And there’s one other thing.” I paused, creating needless drama.
“Are you trying to annoy me?”
