Beverly Connor - Dead Past

The only skeleton not yet analyzed was the antique individual who was shot in the head. Diane laid him out in anatomical position on one of her tables. She placed the skull on a doughnut ring. She eyed the brown and black bones a moment, then began examining each one.

Most of the bones were present, with the exception of some very small ones. The tips of all the fingers of the left hand, except the thumb and index finger, were missing. All the distal phalanges were missing from the right hand. Three of the carpal bones-wrist bones-were missing from the left side and one from the right. All the foot bones were present. Diane thought that amazing under the circumstances.

The hyoid bone-the bone in the throat that supports the base of the tongue-was missing. All the long bones were present. They’re harder to lose, of course, if you’re keeping a box of bones. Human skeletons have twelve ribs on each side. The eleventh and twelfth-called floating ribs because they are not attached ventrally-were missing from the left side; the twelfth was missing from the right.

She checked all the ribs for nicks and cuts that might have come from a knife or gunshot wound. She found none. She measured the long bones using a bone board. The left leg bones-the femur, tibia, and fibula-taken together were shorter than the right by half an inch. He may have had a slight limp. Other than that, the long bones were unremarkable.

Two thoracic vertebrae were missing. The coccyx-the tail bone-had a small healed crack. At some point in his life he had fallen and cracked it. It probably gave him trouble the rest of his young life. Diane examined each vertebra. There were no healed breaks, nor were there any signs of lipping or degenerative disease. Other than his teeth, he was basically healthy.

In the middle of the examination David came in and pulled up a chair.

“Neva came back. She told us about your car. You have a hard time with vehicles, don’t you,” he said.

“Apparently,” said Diane not looking up from the bones.

“I had a long talk with both Neva and Jin,” he said. “I assume you would like to be filled in, as Garnett didn’t tell them not to talk to me about the case and he certainly didn’t tell me not to talk to you about it.”

David cast a glance at the skeleton on the table. “Is that the guy who was under the bed?”

“That’s him. I thought I’d analyze his bones. It’s rather relaxing.”

“What do you know about him?” asked David.

“Other than he is male in his early twenties? Caucasian, from the look of his skull and the indexes of his other measurements. He had a slight limp that he was born with. He was fairly healthy; broke his tailbone at one time; stood about five feet six, and was left-handed. I’m going to have a stable isotope analysis done on a sample of his bone to see what I can find out about where he grew up and what kind of diet he might have had.”

“Garnett won’t spring for that,” said David.

“The primate lab will,” said Diane. “What’s the use of being director of the museum and curator of the primate lab if I can’t order a SIA once in a while?”

“Who do you think he is?” asked David.

“Who do I think he is?” Diane repeated. “I have no idea.”

“How long has he been dead?”

“My guess right now, from the dry feel of his bones, would be over a hundred years. We’ll learn more after some tests on the bones. There’s a possibility he may be a Civil War veteran. That’s just a guess. Probably, someone accidently found the coffin, thought it was cool, robbed the bones, and sent him to college.”

“Interesting,” said David. “Poor fellow gets shot in the head and then a hundred years later gets caught in an explosion and fire. He’s one unlucky dude.”

“Speaking of unlucky dudes,” said Diane, “Tell me about Blake.” She stripped off her gloves, washed her hands, pulled up a chair, and sat down across from David and leaned forward.

“Blake,” sighed David. “Unlucky is right. You know, being born rich should give you an edge, but it didn’t in his case. Now, I should have been born rich. I wouldn’t have been such a pissant.”

“You would if you had his parents,” said Diane. “I actually feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah, so do I. OK, here’s what we know. Blake went from the hospital to arraignment. The judge released him to his parents, even though he is an adult. Money does buy a lot around here. Anyway, he went home with them. Sometime in the night his father woke up. He doesn’t know why. His mother had taken sleeping pills and she was zonked. The father went to Blake’s room and he wasn’t there. He went back to bed.”

“He didn’t look for him?” asked Diane.

“He said his son is an adult,” said David.

“He was released into their custody,” said Diane.

“I didn’t say his parents were consistent.” David rubbed the top of his head. “Look, these chairs aren’t very comfortable. Can I sit on the couch in your office?”

“Sure.” Diane rose and stretched, easing the strain in her back. Followed by David, she went to her Osteology office.

“This is much nicer,” he said, dropping himself onto her stuffed sofa. “Where was I? AWOL, right. Anyway, the father thought the son leaving the house was what woke him up, so he went back to bed-thinking, I suppose, that a one-handed kid just out of the hospital could handle himself.”

“Where did he go?” asked Diane.

“Not far. He was found by the maid in the boathouse, shot in the head-no stippling.”

“What kind of gun?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t find a bullet. No exit wound, so it’s still in his head.”

“Could his father have heard the shot? Is that what woke him up?” said Diane.

“Then why didn’t it wake the entire community? The sound of gunfire carries very well over water. We think maybe the killer used a silencer.”

“Silencer. OK. Then it was premeditated. A hit maybe?”

“I’m thinking that. Someone he was involved with lured him out of the house in the middle of the night and shot him in the boathouse. The boathouse is open on the water end. The killer could have ridden up in a boat, tapped him, and left.”

“Wouldn’t the motor wake everyone up?”

“One would think. The police are canvassing the neighborhood.”

“Was there anything on the body? What was he carrying?”

“He was dressed in sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a coat. He had keys to the house and car in his coat pocket. He had no money, billfold, or credit cards. Those were in his room. Neva found a silver charm of a ballerina slipper on the dock. His parents didn’t recognize it. I don’t think he was expecting to go anywhere but outside for a minute or two. He put on his shoes without socks-in this cold weather.”

“It looks like a hit. The meth lab connection looks like the best bet,” said Diane.

“That’s what Garnett thinks. Of course, his mother thinks it was you.”

“Why?” asked Diane.

“Neva says she just wants it to be you.”

“Anything else?”

“His father recently cut off the kid’s funds after the kid wrecked the father’s car-it was a 1965 Jaguar. Personally, I would have cut off his nose for that. Anyway, Blake still had plenty of spending money.”

“Did he have a job?”

“Are you kidding? No. He was a perpetual student at Bartram. He got good grades, but went from major to major, never getting enough hours in any one department to graduate. He seemed to like the collegiate life.”

“That sounds like he may have been dealing to students.”

“I thought so, so does Garnett, but so far they haven’t found any evidence of it.”

“What does the drug unit say?”