Read Online Riding the Snake (1998) by Stephen Cannell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Cannell
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tomorrow. If you think of anything, let me know. Here's my card." She handed it to him.
And then Cindy Masatomi stuck her head out the back door and called to Tanisha. "Detective Williams, we've called for a Coroner's wagon. The M . E .'s standing by at County."
"What's up? There's usually at least a two-day wait for an autopsy."
"I think something's alive inside her."
Chapter 6.
Another Opening, Another Show
The autopsy room was on the third floor of the County Medical Building across from Parker Center.
Dr. Paul Dickson, known in the "canoe factory" as Dr. Death, was doing the organ recital. He always referred to the cadaver he was working on as the "guest of honor." They now definitely knew from prints and identification it was Angela Wong. He had made a thorough examination of the corpse, then photographed it before and after washing it. The knife cuts were gruesome and everywhere. He was bent over, studying the wounds through the pull-down magnifying glass mounted above the metal-drained autopsy table. He began reading observations into the microphone over his head in a friendly, almost conversational voice. He'd seen too much to be shocked by anything.
That was about to change.
The room was white tile and uncomfortably cold. Air conditioning hissed valiantly but still failed to completely remove the collection of distasteful smells in the morgue: chemicals, preserving fluids, and the sweet, sickening odor of rotting flesh, naturally dissolving in a self-liquefying bath of butyric acid.
Tanisha was standing near the corpse's feet, watching the autopsy with a small recorder in her hand so that she could make her own observations as well as gather stray thoughts that hit her during the gruesome procedure.
"Looks like a very narrow, very sharp blade . . . extremely honed, like a razor at its edge. Most of these cuts are only two - to three-eighths of an inch deep. All major muscle groups and tendons have been attacked. The tendons have all been severed and have snapped back, recoiling against the bone. Must've hurt like a bitch." Dr. Death pushed the mike back and put his hand on the abdomen. Then, for a second, he also thought he could feel something moving inside. He turned to Cindy Masatomi, who was just entering the room with the Stryker-500 oscillating autopsy saw.
"Found it," she announced. "It was in Calvin's room. His burned up an hour ago." She set down the saw. It was an extremely ugly little tool that cut bone by rapid forward and backward strokes . . . almost like an electric kitchen knife. Dr. Dickson took his hand off the abdomen. "What's your estimated T . O. D ., Cindy?" he asked.
"When I got to her house, her liver temp was ninety-nine point three. At one degree an hour, starting at a normal liver temp of one-oh-two, I'd guess she'd been dead maybe three hours when we got there." She looked at her watch. "Over four now."
Dr. Death put his hand back on Angela's abdomen. "So, what the hell is this? It's not a uterine pregnancy. With no blood flow, the fetus would've been dead hours ago." He picked up a scalpel from the tray. "Guess we aren't going to find out by just talking about it."
He began to work on her vaginal area, carefully making an incision, widening the canal. After making the preliminary cut, he washed the area with a small, flexible tube to clean off the small amount of blood that leaked out of Angela Wong's already pale, blood-drained body. Then he pulled the ceiling-mounted magnifying glass back down and looked carefully at his incision.
"Whatever this is, it's way up there. Hand me the Rigby six-and-three-quarter-inch vaginal retractor," he demanded, and Cindy grabbed a pair of long scissor forceps and handed them to the Coroner, who used them to probe deep inside the body.
"Son of a bitch, what is this?" he said again. He couldn't grip it, so he picked up the scalpel and made a slightly deeper and longer cut. Rewashed, then reexamined.
Tanisha found herself holding her
And then Cindy Masatomi stuck her head out the back door and called to Tanisha. "Detective Williams, we've called for a Coroner's wagon. The M . E .'s standing by at County."
"What's up? There's usually at least a two-day wait for an autopsy."
"I think something's alive inside her."
Chapter 6.
Another Opening, Another Show
The autopsy room was on the third floor of the County Medical Building across from Parker Center.
Dr. Paul Dickson, known in the "canoe factory" as Dr. Death, was doing the organ recital. He always referred to the cadaver he was working on as the "guest of honor." They now definitely knew from prints and identification it was Angela Wong. He had made a thorough examination of the corpse, then photographed it before and after washing it. The knife cuts were gruesome and everywhere. He was bent over, studying the wounds through the pull-down magnifying glass mounted above the metal-drained autopsy table. He began reading observations into the microphone over his head in a friendly, almost conversational voice. He'd seen too much to be shocked by anything.
That was about to change.
The room was white tile and uncomfortably cold. Air conditioning hissed valiantly but still failed to completely remove the collection of distasteful smells in the morgue: chemicals, preserving fluids, and the sweet, sickening odor of rotting flesh, naturally dissolving in a self-liquefying bath of butyric acid.
Tanisha was standing near the corpse's feet, watching the autopsy with a small recorder in her hand so that she could make her own observations as well as gather stray thoughts that hit her during the gruesome procedure.
"Looks like a very narrow, very sharp blade . . . extremely honed, like a razor at its edge. Most of these cuts are only two - to three-eighths of an inch deep. All major muscle groups and tendons have been attacked. The tendons have all been severed and have snapped back, recoiling against the bone. Must've hurt like a bitch." Dr. Death pushed the mike back and put his hand on the abdomen. Then, for a second, he also thought he could feel something moving inside. He turned to Cindy Masatomi, who was just entering the room with the Stryker-500 oscillating autopsy saw.
"Found it," she announced. "It was in Calvin's room. His burned up an hour ago." She set down the saw. It was an extremely ugly little tool that cut bone by rapid forward and backward strokes . . . almost like an electric kitchen knife. Dr. Dickson took his hand off the abdomen. "What's your estimated T . O. D ., Cindy?" he asked.
"When I got to her house, her liver temp was ninety-nine point three. At one degree an hour, starting at a normal liver temp of one-oh-two, I'd guess she'd been dead maybe three hours when we got there." She looked at her watch. "Over four now."
Dr. Death put his hand back on Angela's abdomen. "So, what the hell is this? It's not a uterine pregnancy. With no blood flow, the fetus would've been dead hours ago." He picked up a scalpel from the tray. "Guess we aren't going to find out by just talking about it."
He began to work on her vaginal area, carefully making an incision, widening the canal. After making the preliminary cut, he washed the area with a small, flexible tube to clean off the small amount of blood that leaked out of Angela Wong's already pale, blood-drained body. Then he pulled the ceiling-mounted magnifying glass back down and looked carefully at his incision.
"Whatever this is, it's way up there. Hand me the Rigby six-and-three-quarter-inch vaginal retractor," he demanded, and Cindy grabbed a pair of long scissor forceps and handed them to the Coroner, who used them to probe deep inside the body.
"Son of a bitch, what is this?" he said again. He couldn't grip it, so he picked up the scalpel and made a slightly deeper and longer cut. Rewashed, then reexamined.
Tanisha found herself holding her
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