Read Online The Bone Vault - Linda Fairstein by Linda Fairstein - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Fairstein
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relics. Pieces of her bones that doctors and priests removed from her corpse. Part of the body of the saint to help perform more miracles."
"They cut out the poor woman's bones?"
"Ribs, muscles. If they found gallstones they took them, too. Looking for proof of divine grace, trying to memorialize the person who was responsible for attracting this powerful good." "So, you're telling me that Bernadette was mummified? Naturally, not like the Egyptians did with the removal of all the body organs?"
"It really was miraculous, at least in the Church if not to science. I mean, the way she was buried, nobody expected it. She'd been very ill at the time she died, and the chapel in which she'd been interred was so humid that everybody expected the flesh had decayed. After all, the rosary was rusty, the crucifix inside the coffin had turned green, and even her habit was damp."
I shuddered at Mike's description. "This must have been very rare. Zita, Bernadette--"
"Saint Ubald of Gubbio, Blessed Margaret of Savoy. You want me to go on? I know my saints and virgins better than I know Yankee statistics. Had my knuckles rapped enough times back in parochial school for catechisms I couldn't follow, but when they got to this kind of stuff, it grabbed me."
"I'm missing something here. You two have figured out who our victim is? You're not trying to tell me she's some kind of saint, are you?"
"She's Saint Cleo to me, working her only little miracle for us. I never thought we'd find anything under those linen wraps. I figured that body would be partially if not fully decomposed. You gotta think the person who put her in that box and stuck a shipping label on it to sit on the blacktop in Newark during the summer heat, or in the hold of a freighter headed for Cairo, wouldn't have expected there'd be anything left to make a visual ID of his victim." "You've done the autopsy?" I asked Kestenbaum.
"Later today. But we've unwrapped the linen and taken the photos. Mike's right. The body is completely intact, in remarkable condition."
"Maybe she just died recently, within the week."
"Unlikely. I'd say she's been dead for months, maybe the better part of a year. I'll have a better idea after I get to work, but the skin has some discoloration and it's shriveled a bit, the muscles have atrophied, and the lashes on her left eyelid have come out and are stuck to the brow."
"And she's dressed in winter clothing, am I right, doc?"
"Yeah. Nothing you'd wear at the end of May. Heavy woolen slacks and a four-ply cashmere sweater with long sleeves and a crewneck."
Kestenbaum removed a few Polaroid photos from the pocket of his lab coat and passed them to me. I lifted the one on top for a close look and passed the others to Mike.
The young woman stared back at me with a sober expression. It was remarkable to think that she had been dead for any period of time greater than a few days. She appeared to be about thirty years old. Her skin had a strange cast, but I could not tell how much of that was due to the poor quality of the Polaroid shot in the dim light of the morgue basement.
"I'm telling you, Coop, she's an Incorruptible."
Her sandy brown hair seemed to be falling out of her scalp, but otherwise, she appeared to be perfectly preserved.
"She's going to tell us what we need to know. Where she's been all this time--"
"Any ideas, doc?"
"Think about the way the saints were buried. A number of pathologists have studied these cases, just as religious historians have. Most of the Incorruptibles, before canonization, were interred in burial vaults beneath the altars of churches. Not only was it hallowed ground but it was also cool and the area was often lined with heavy stone. The temperature was usually quite low beneath the floor, even when the seasons changed. That's what you're going to be looking for, Mike. Someplace cool and dry that would naturally preserve this body."
"What happened to her?" I studied her small face, with
"They cut out the poor woman's bones?"
"Ribs, muscles. If they found gallstones they took them, too. Looking for proof of divine grace, trying to memorialize the person who was responsible for attracting this powerful good." "So, you're telling me that Bernadette was mummified? Naturally, not like the Egyptians did with the removal of all the body organs?"
"It really was miraculous, at least in the Church if not to science. I mean, the way she was buried, nobody expected it. She'd been very ill at the time she died, and the chapel in which she'd been interred was so humid that everybody expected the flesh had decayed. After all, the rosary was rusty, the crucifix inside the coffin had turned green, and even her habit was damp."
I shuddered at Mike's description. "This must have been very rare. Zita, Bernadette--"
"Saint Ubald of Gubbio, Blessed Margaret of Savoy. You want me to go on? I know my saints and virgins better than I know Yankee statistics. Had my knuckles rapped enough times back in parochial school for catechisms I couldn't follow, but when they got to this kind of stuff, it grabbed me."
"I'm missing something here. You two have figured out who our victim is? You're not trying to tell me she's some kind of saint, are you?"
"She's Saint Cleo to me, working her only little miracle for us. I never thought we'd find anything under those linen wraps. I figured that body would be partially if not fully decomposed. You gotta think the person who put her in that box and stuck a shipping label on it to sit on the blacktop in Newark during the summer heat, or in the hold of a freighter headed for Cairo, wouldn't have expected there'd be anything left to make a visual ID of his victim." "You've done the autopsy?" I asked Kestenbaum.
"Later today. But we've unwrapped the linen and taken the photos. Mike's right. The body is completely intact, in remarkable condition."
"Maybe she just died recently, within the week."
"Unlikely. I'd say she's been dead for months, maybe the better part of a year. I'll have a better idea after I get to work, but the skin has some discoloration and it's shriveled a bit, the muscles have atrophied, and the lashes on her left eyelid have come out and are stuck to the brow."
"And she's dressed in winter clothing, am I right, doc?"
"Yeah. Nothing you'd wear at the end of May. Heavy woolen slacks and a four-ply cashmere sweater with long sleeves and a crewneck."
Kestenbaum removed a few Polaroid photos from the pocket of his lab coat and passed them to me. I lifted the one on top for a close look and passed the others to Mike.
The young woman stared back at me with a sober expression. It was remarkable to think that she had been dead for any period of time greater than a few days. She appeared to be about thirty years old. Her skin had a strange cast, but I could not tell how much of that was due to the poor quality of the Polaroid shot in the dim light of the morgue basement.
"I'm telling you, Coop, she's an Incorruptible."
Her sandy brown hair seemed to be falling out of her scalp, but otherwise, she appeared to be perfectly preserved.
"She's going to tell us what we need to know. Where she's been all this time--"
"Any ideas, doc?"
"Think about the way the saints were buried. A number of pathologists have studied these cases, just as religious historians have. Most of the Incorruptibles, before canonization, were interred in burial vaults beneath the altars of churches. Not only was it hallowed ground but it was also cool and the area was often lined with heavy stone. The temperature was usually quite low beneath the floor, even when the seasons changed. That's what you're going to be looking for, Mike. Someplace cool and dry that would naturally preserve this body."
"What happened to her?" I studied her small face, with
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