Read Online Dead Guilty by Beverly Connor - Free Book Online Page B

time.
Diane stayed and continued to collect insect specimens. At the crime scene and on the bodies a full range
of insects were present—insects that feed on flesh, and
insects that fed on the flesh-eating insects. The only
kind she didn’t see were the ground beetles that feed
on dried flesh. All the dried flesh was hanging well
out of their reach.
Lynn made the Y incision and pulled back the flaps
of tissue, increasing the putrid smell in the room. Lynn
was petite, even looked delicate next to the autopsy
table, but she had no problem cutting away the chest
plate, gaining her access to the block of organs. ‘‘You know,’’ said Lynn, ‘‘I really prefer fresh
bodies.’’
Diane had to agree as she watched Lynn and Ray
mond locate the subclavian and carotid arteries. ‘‘Go ahead and tie them off, Raymond—if you can. I’m getting a lot more decay in this one than the Blue girl. Let’s get these organs out and, Diane, you’re wel
come to any insects you can find.’’
Raymond did most of the cutting to remove the
organs and took them to the other autopsy table for
Lynn to examine. There were very few insect larva in
the chest cavity, but Diane found several good speci
mens in the lower abdomen.
‘‘Go ahead and get at the brain,’’ Lynn told Ray
mond. ‘‘I hope it’s not mush.’’
As Lynn examined the organs, Diane told them
about the unexpected mummy.
‘‘So he just kind of showed up on your doorstep?’’
said Raymond. ‘‘Now, that’s cool. Dr. Lynn, I’m going
to cut the neck, if you can . . . never mind, I think I
can manage it. These long necks are a mess to deal
with, I’m telling you.’’
‘‘So you’ll be opening an Egyptian exhibit?’’ asked
Lynn.
‘‘At some point perhaps. We’ve got a lot of research
to do before then.’’
‘‘Oh, this fellow had a heart condition,’’ said Lynn. Diane looked over her shoulder at the darkened
heart Lynn had opened up.
‘‘See here?’’ Lynn pointed her scalpel at a valve.
‘‘He had a mitral valve prolapse. You know,’’ she
turned her head toward Diane, ‘‘this might show up
in his bones.’’
‘‘You think it may be associated with skeletal
abnormalities?’’
‘‘It’s observed in about two-thirds of patients with
this condition.’’
‘‘Would he have been under a physician’s care?’’
asked Diane.
‘‘It’s not severe, so he may have been basically
asymptomatic. That’s not uncommon. He may
have had to take antibiotics when he had dental
work.’’
The sound of the Stryker saw was of short duration.
Raymond was skilled. The sound of the calvarium
being removed didn’t have the characteristic pop of a
fresh body.
‘‘Pretty soft,’’ said Raymond. ‘‘We may be able to
fix it.’’
Out of the corner of her eye Diane saw him care
fully remove the jellylike brain and put it in a jar
of formalin.
Little by little they were collecting bits of informa
tion about the victims—tattoos, scars, bad heart valve.
There was a good chance that all these things would
add up to a critical mass of information leading them
to the identity of the victims.
Surely, someone was missing these people—unless
they were the lost people, the invisible class that
slips through the cracks and becomes easy prey for
killers.
It was almost 9:30 P.M. by the time they finished the
third autopsy and Diane arrived at the museum with
the evidence for her crime lab. David was there, tak
ing notes and checking on his insects.
‘‘I called the weather bureau. It’s been pretty redun
dant for the past couple months—dry and hot. I’ve
duplicated the environment for my babies here.’’ He
pointed to his rearing chambers.
‘‘Here’s some more insects. Larva and bug parts.’’
She handed them over and began logging in the cloth
ing and rope she had collected from the autopsies. ‘‘Discover anything new?’’ David asked.
Diane sat down in a chair and stretched out her legs
in front of her. ‘‘Some. Right now