Читать книгу Bone Box - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 8

Rina was early, but Tilly Goldstein was even earlier. That was a good thing. Vegan Palace was already crowded and it was good that Tilly had snagged a table. The woman had blue eyes, short curly gray hair, and glasses that hung down from a chain around her neck. Today she had on a yellow, summery dress with short sleeves exposing thin arms and baggy skin. Rina slid into the chair opposite Tilly. Immediately they were handed menus by a young woman with blue hair who was studded with piercings and inked with tattoos. She told Tilly and Rina that her name was Sarah and she’d be back with water and pita bread.

When she left, Tilly said, “She has such a pretty face. Why would she want to walk around with pins in her like a voodoo doll? And the tattoos? Do you understand tattoos?”

“Kids get them to be unique. But when I see them, I immediately think of my parents, who were Holocaust survivors with tattooed numbers. What are you going to have?”

“What are you going to have?”

“I was thinking about the tofu curry or the vegan burger deluxe.”

“Get the curry. I’ll get stir-fry. I like soba noodles.”

Ten minutes later, Sarah came over to take the order. They made small talk until the food came. Then Tilly put her napkin on her lap.

“So what’s this about finding a body at Bogat Trail?”

“They found bones. Actually, I found bones.” Rina brought her up to speed. “Of course, the immediate thought was that it might be one of the missing girls from the colleges. Since you’ve been there for a while—”

“Don’t remind me.”

Rina pulled out a small pad. “What can you tell me about them?”

“I remember Delilah better than Yvette because Delilah was more recent. It was very sad. She was coming home from a party about three years ago and never made it to her dorm at Clarion. Her disappearance caused this whole brouhaha about lax campus security especially at night. The colleges agreed to post more guards. The board also instituted this walk-home policy that if anyone—male or female—felt the need to be accompanied anywhere on the campus at any time, day or night, there would be someone available to them.”

“Is the service used?”

“All the time. It was said that Delilah had to be the sacrificial lamb before the colleges wised up that sometimes campuses can be unsafe places.”

“I agree. But it seems like they’d have to hire an awful lot of guards to keep up with the demand.”

“No, no, no. It’s like Uber. We have a huge list of students from all the colleges who are willing to walk other students to and fro for pocket change. A person calls the office and we check around to see who is available at that time. We usually have at least forty to fifty students on call.”

“And how well are the students vetted?”

Tilly looked perturbed. “Honestly, they probably aren’t vetted. But the security office does have a list of the students from the call logs. If there’s a problem, someone knows who was called out.”

“Have there been problems?”

“I haven’t heard, but if there were, I’m sure they’re not publicized.” Tilly dug into her stir-fry. “Hmmm … good.”

“Yeah, the food’s really good. I can’t get my husband interested in vegetarian food.”

“That’s just men,” Tilly said. “You know, your husband could probably talk to the colleges about the Delilah Occum disappearance.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rina smiled. “What do you remember about Yvette Jones?”

“She also disappeared at night. I don’t remember the circumstances, Rina. Just that she never made it back to her dorm room.”

“I heard she was coming back from a lecture.”

“A lecture?”

“Something about socially conscious investing?”

“Ah … that sounds like Hank Carter. He gives free lectures bi-monthly. They’re usually packed.”

“This happened over seven years ago. He was giving lectures back then?”

“He’s been at Morse McKinley for years. I’ve gone to a few of his talks. He’s a great speaker.”

Rina wrote down the name. “When you say packed, like how many people?”

“They’re at Murphy Hall, which holds at least three hundred students. He’s not the only one who gives free talks, but socially conscious investing is his topic. He’s been mining that pipeline for years.”

There was a lull in the conversation as Rina scribbled a few notes.

Tilly said, “Bogat Trail. That isn’t far from town.”

“About fifteen minutes,” Rina looked up. “The hike isn’t exactly strenuous, either. It’s around two miles before you hit a fork. Then there’s a switchback or you can go farther, and I think that one trail is a four-mile loop. I’ve never taken that road. It’s too deep in the woods for my taste.”

“I think you’re fearless just walking out there by yourself.”

“I had a gun in my purse when I found the bones, but to tell you the truth I forgot about it.”

“You carry a gun?”

“It’s for protection, Tilly. The woods have critters. Haven’t you ever read Stephen King?”

Tilly smiled. “You actually know how to shoot a gun?”

“I do.”

“You could actually shoot another human being?”

“I’ve never been tested so I don’t know. I probably should go to the range, though. Hone my skills.”

“I can’t believe you own a gun.”

“My husband is a police officer.”

“Yes, he is. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just you’re … we’re Jewish. What do we know from guns?”

“Israel does have an army. And women are drafted. It’s where I first learned how to shoot. My pedigree goes long and deep.”

The bones were assembled on the metal table, disarticulated but arranged as a human skeleton. Decker and McAdams were standing in a small room that was used for hospital autopsies, very different from the multiple-roomed L.A. morgue. What was persistent and all too familiar was the smell—decayed, cloyingly sweet, and medicinal. It was an odor that stayed in the nostrils long after the visit.

Most bodies in hospitals died from natural causes. Decker wondered how many actual murder victims Jerome Donner had dealt with in his career. Not that it mattered that much. It was clear how the victim had died.

Decker said, “The skull is caved in.”

“Blunt force trauma,” Donner told him. “By how severe the skull is depressed, it was more than one blow.”

“Any idea of what type of instrument could have done this?”

“It’s irregular in shape, but repeated strikes could do that. My guess is a rock or a stone maybe. Or even the butt of a gun.”

“So she died of blunt force trauma?” McAdams said.

“That’s the cause of death, yes. The she part? Not so fast.”

“You’re kidding.” McAdams said.

“Look at the pelvis, Detectives. We’ve got a small pelvic outlet, a forward-tilting sacrum, and the anterior view shows an angle of less than ninety degrees. We’ve got a dude.”

A moment of silence, then Decker said, “Well, that certainly changes a few things. What else can you tell us?”

“According to my calculations based on the femur length, I’d say he was easily six feet.”

“To bash someone who tops six feet, it would have to be a tall person,” McAdams said.

Decker said, “Or our victim could have been on his knees.”

“That, too,” McAdams said.

“The trauma was at the lower end of the parietal right above the occiput. More like a swing to the back rather than on top of the head.”

“He was ambushed from behind.”

“Probably. By the way, our victim had thin bones and long fingers … piano fingers.”

“Lanky guy?”

“More lanky than stocky.”

“The skull also has a full set of straight teeth,” Decker said. “Any dental work?”

“Yes, you are lucky because very few kids have cavities anymore with all the sealants. There are two small class-one amalgams. If you have dental records, you can probably do a match with them as well as the roots of the teeth.”

“Okay. Do you have an approximate age?”

“Early twenties to mid-twenties by the skull sutures and the teeth. See, we have two erupted third molars and these two in the mandible. Those puppies are impacted. And you’re right. The teeth are aligned, indicating good genetics or good dental care.”

“Race?”

“Spatulate teeth … no flaring of the nostrils. European. Better known as Caucasian.”

“A white male with long, thick hair.” Decker raised a finger. “Could be why we only found a single earring—a small, silver hoop. I looked for the mate, but when I didn’t find it, I figured it was lost during a struggle.”

“He could have been gay,” McAdams said.

Donner said, “Maybe. Look at the nails on the fingers and toes. There’s some keratin left on the digits.”

Decker and McAdams leaned over. The tips had a purple glow to them.

“Nail polish,” Decker said. “Any idea how long he’s been in the ground?”

“It’s really hard to date once the bones have been stripped of the meat. But since there’s still a lot of hair and a little nail polish, I’d say probably less than ten years. If you get some possibilities, we can match the dental records.”

Decker looked at his list. Identifying the body was the first order of business.

Most of the missing people were female between the ages of eighteen and forty-five. But there were a few Caucasian males in the proper age range. Two had been students at the colleges. If none of those fit the description; he’d have to fan out the search. The young man could have been from anywhere and dumped in the woods. Worst-case scenario, if they didn’t get an ID, it was possible to do a forensic reconstruction of the face based on the bony landmarks.

But he wasn’t complaining too much, because he had something to work with. The height, the age, the long hair, the earring, and the purple nail polish were a pretty distinctive combination. Not too many edgy young people lived in town. The colleges were a car ride away. It was as good a place as any to start.