indicated the spiderweb of intersecting cracks on that segment and on two others.
“Concentric-heaving fractures.”
“So the entrance is behind and below the right ear?” LaManche’s eyes remained on the segments.
“Yes. But it’s complicated.”
“The beveling.” LaManche zeroed in on the problem.
“Yes.”
Returning to the first segment, I pointed to the external beveling adjacent to the oval defect.
“If the gun barrel is in tight contact with the skul , ectocranial beveling can be created by the blow-back of gases,” LaManche said.
“I don’t think that’s the case here. Notice the shape of the defect.”
LaManche leaned closer.
“A bul et entering perpendicular to a skul ’s surface usual y produces a circular defect,” I said. “A bul et entering tangential y produces an irregular perforation, often more oval in shape.”
“Mais, oui.A keyhole defect.”
“Exactly. A portion of the bul et actual y sheared off and was lost outside the skul . Thus the external beveling at the entrance.”
LaManche looked up. “So the bul et entered behind the right ear and exited the left cheek.”
“Yes.”
LaManche considered that.
“Such a trajectory is uncommon but possible in suicide. Monsieur Ferris was right-handed.”
“There’s more. Take a closer look.”
I handed LaManche a magnifying lens. He raised and lowered it over the oval defect.
“The rounded end looks scal oped.” LaManche studied the oval for another thirty seconds. “As though the circle is superimposed on the oval.”
“Or the reverse. The border of the circular defect is clean on the skul ’s external surface. But check inside.”
He rotated the segment.
“Endocranial beveling.” LaManche grasped it immediately. “It’s a double entrance.”
I nodded. “The first bul et hit Ferris’s skul straight on. Textbook. Outside border clean, inside border beveled. The second struck the same spot, but at an angle.”
“Producing a keyhole defect.”
I nodded. “Ferris’s head moved or the shooter’s hand twitched.”
Fatigue? Sadness? Resignation? LaManche sagged as I voiced my ugly conclusion.
“Avram Ferris was shot twice in the back of the head. Execution style.”
That night Ryan cooked at my place. Arctic char, asparagus, and what we from Dixie cal smashed potatoes. The spuds he baked, peeled, then worked with a fork, adding green onions and olive oil as he mashed.
I watched in awe. I’ve been cal ed insightful. Bril iant even. When it comes to cooking, I have the vision of a guppy. Given an eon to ponder, my brain would never conceive a road map to mashed potatoes that did not pass through boiling.
Birdie was immensely appreciative of Ryan’sfruits de mer, and spent the evening trawling for handouts. Later, he settled on the hearth. His purring said feline life didn’t get much better.
Over dinner, I shared my conclusion regarding manner of death in the Ferris case. Ryan already knew. The investigation was now official y homicide.
“The weapon’s a Jericho nine-mil imeter,” he said.
“Where was it?”
“Way back in a corner of the closet, under a cart.”
“Did the gun belong to Ferris?”
“If so, no one knew about it.”
I reached for more salad.
“SIJ recovered one nine-mil imeter bul et from the closet,” Ryan went on.
“Only one?” That didn’t fit with my double-entry scenario.
“In a ceiling panel.”
Nor did that.
“What was a bul et doing overhead?” I asked.
“Maybe Ferris went for the shooter, they struggled, the gun discharged.”
“Maybe the shooter placed the gun in Ferris’s hand and pul ed the trigger.”
“Simulated suicide?” Ryan.
“Every TV viewer knows you gotta have gunshot residue.”
“LaManche didn’t find any.”
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
I munched and thought.
LaManche had recovered one bul et fragment from the victim’s head. SIJ had dug one bul et from the
“Concentric-heaving fractures.”
“So the entrance is behind and below the right ear?” LaManche’s eyes remained on the segments.
“Yes. But it’s complicated.”
“The beveling.” LaManche zeroed in on the problem.
“Yes.”
Returning to the first segment, I pointed to the external beveling adjacent to the oval defect.
“If the gun barrel is in tight contact with the skul , ectocranial beveling can be created by the blow-back of gases,” LaManche said.
“I don’t think that’s the case here. Notice the shape of the defect.”
LaManche leaned closer.
“A bul et entering perpendicular to a skul ’s surface usual y produces a circular defect,” I said. “A bul et entering tangential y produces an irregular perforation, often more oval in shape.”
“Mais, oui.A keyhole defect.”
“Exactly. A portion of the bul et actual y sheared off and was lost outside the skul . Thus the external beveling at the entrance.”
LaManche looked up. “So the bul et entered behind the right ear and exited the left cheek.”
“Yes.”
LaManche considered that.
“Such a trajectory is uncommon but possible in suicide. Monsieur Ferris was right-handed.”
“There’s more. Take a closer look.”
I handed LaManche a magnifying lens. He raised and lowered it over the oval defect.
“The rounded end looks scal oped.” LaManche studied the oval for another thirty seconds. “As though the circle is superimposed on the oval.”
“Or the reverse. The border of the circular defect is clean on the skul ’s external surface. But check inside.”
He rotated the segment.
“Endocranial beveling.” LaManche grasped it immediately. “It’s a double entrance.”
I nodded. “The first bul et hit Ferris’s skul straight on. Textbook. Outside border clean, inside border beveled. The second struck the same spot, but at an angle.”
“Producing a keyhole defect.”
I nodded. “Ferris’s head moved or the shooter’s hand twitched.”
Fatigue? Sadness? Resignation? LaManche sagged as I voiced my ugly conclusion.
“Avram Ferris was shot twice in the back of the head. Execution style.”
That night Ryan cooked at my place. Arctic char, asparagus, and what we from Dixie cal smashed potatoes. The spuds he baked, peeled, then worked with a fork, adding green onions and olive oil as he mashed.
I watched in awe. I’ve been cal ed insightful. Bril iant even. When it comes to cooking, I have the vision of a guppy. Given an eon to ponder, my brain would never conceive a road map to mashed potatoes that did not pass through boiling.
Birdie was immensely appreciative of Ryan’sfruits de mer, and spent the evening trawling for handouts. Later, he settled on the hearth. His purring said feline life didn’t get much better.
Over dinner, I shared my conclusion regarding manner of death in the Ferris case. Ryan already knew. The investigation was now official y homicide.
“The weapon’s a Jericho nine-mil imeter,” he said.
“Where was it?”
“Way back in a corner of the closet, under a cart.”
“Did the gun belong to Ferris?”
“If so, no one knew about it.”
I reached for more salad.
“SIJ recovered one nine-mil imeter bul et from the closet,” Ryan went on.
“Only one?” That didn’t fit with my double-entry scenario.
“In a ceiling panel.”
Nor did that.
“What was a bul et doing overhead?” I asked.
“Maybe Ferris went for the shooter, they struggled, the gun discharged.”
“Maybe the shooter placed the gun in Ferris’s hand and pul ed the trigger.”
“Simulated suicide?” Ryan.
“Every TV viewer knows you gotta have gunshot residue.”
“LaManche didn’t find any.”
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
I munched and thought.
LaManche had recovered one bul et fragment from the victim’s head. SIJ had dug one bul et from the
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