Read Online The Killing Room by Richard Montanari - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Montanari
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they would be sent to the latent print section, where they would be run through IAFIS, the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System, a program run and maintained by the FBI. If the victim had ever been arrested, or worked for a government agency, his prints would be on file.
While Jessica waited she did the initial paperwork, including filling out the body chart, the standard Police Department form that had four outlines of the human body drawn on it, front and back, left and right side. It also had space for the fundamental details of the crime scene. Whenever someone came onto an existing case, this was the first document they consulted.
But this body chart was a bit more difficult than usual. It wasnot easy to diagram the wounds on the body. The fatal wound – the laceration that had probably been responsible for the victim bleeding out – was the one barb that looked to have been specifically sharpened for that purpose. They would know a lot more about that when the victim was autopsied the next morning.
While all this was pending Jessica called a friend of hers at L & I. The Licenses and Inspections Department was the agency dedicated to, among other things, enforcement and regulation of the city’s code requirements regarding public safety, including building, plumbing, electrical, mechanical, fire, property maintenance, business, and zoning regulations.
After being on hold for more than five minutes she hung up, deciding to just go there and get what she needed. She crossed the duty room to where Byrne sat at a terminal, running the names of some of the witnesses they had spoken to.
‘I’m going to run over to L & I and get a history on that building,’ Jessica said.
In a city like Philadelphia, with a 300-year history, there was always a battle being fought between progress and preservation. The crime-scene building from that morning had easily been more than a hundred years old. There was nothing particularly interesting or attractive about it, and it clearly had been used for a number of purposes over the years. A visit to the zoning archives would give them a handle on who, if anyone, owned the building now, and what it had been used for in the past.
Jessica slipped on her coat, looked at her watch. ‘Who’s on at the morgue today?’
Byrne picked up the phone, made a call to the ID unit. During day work – the shift that was on duty between 8 a.m.
and 4 p.m. – the print unit kept a technician at the morgue to take prints from unidentified victims. It was the least glamorous duty in the unit – if indeed there was a glamorous section to the latent print unit – and sometimes there was a backlog. Every homicide detective wanted their John or Jane Doe prints yesterday, but sometimes the bodies had to go into the refrigeration rooms pending the process, which made a lousy job even worse.
Byrne hung up the phone. ‘Judy’s on.’
Jessica smiled. ‘Lucky us.’
Judy Brannon was in her late thirties, single, and looking. She was also fearless. Jessica had once visited the morgue on a high-profile case, with the intention of walking the prints through the system. She watched Judy Brannon trying to get prints from a cold corpse when all of a sudden, in the middle of the process, the dead man’s hand contracted, closing around Judy’s wrist. Jessica had jumped a foot when it happened – not to mention enduring two sleepless nights as a result – but Judy had remained completely calm throughout.
In addition to her valiant work, and rather Rubenesque figure, Judy Brannon had a mad crush on Kevin Byrne.
‘Bring me back something sweet,’ Jessica said to Byrne as he walked out the door, heading to the morgue.
‘Besides myself?’ he asked.
‘Not that sweet.’
The zoning records for the city of Philadelphia were located at the concourse level of the Licenses and Inspections offices at 15th and JFK. The area dedicated to studying the archives was a warren of drab gray
While Jessica waited she did the initial paperwork, including filling out the body chart, the standard Police Department form that had four outlines of the human body drawn on it, front and back, left and right side. It also had space for the fundamental details of the crime scene. Whenever someone came onto an existing case, this was the first document they consulted.
But this body chart was a bit more difficult than usual. It wasnot easy to diagram the wounds on the body. The fatal wound – the laceration that had probably been responsible for the victim bleeding out – was the one barb that looked to have been specifically sharpened for that purpose. They would know a lot more about that when the victim was autopsied the next morning.
While all this was pending Jessica called a friend of hers at L & I. The Licenses and Inspections Department was the agency dedicated to, among other things, enforcement and regulation of the city’s code requirements regarding public safety, including building, plumbing, electrical, mechanical, fire, property maintenance, business, and zoning regulations.
After being on hold for more than five minutes she hung up, deciding to just go there and get what she needed. She crossed the duty room to where Byrne sat at a terminal, running the names of some of the witnesses they had spoken to.
‘I’m going to run over to L & I and get a history on that building,’ Jessica said.
In a city like Philadelphia, with a 300-year history, there was always a battle being fought between progress and preservation. The crime-scene building from that morning had easily been more than a hundred years old. There was nothing particularly interesting or attractive about it, and it clearly had been used for a number of purposes over the years. A visit to the zoning archives would give them a handle on who, if anyone, owned the building now, and what it had been used for in the past.
Jessica slipped on her coat, looked at her watch. ‘Who’s on at the morgue today?’
Byrne picked up the phone, made a call to the ID unit. During day work – the shift that was on duty between 8 a.m.
and 4 p.m. – the print unit kept a technician at the morgue to take prints from unidentified victims. It was the least glamorous duty in the unit – if indeed there was a glamorous section to the latent print unit – and sometimes there was a backlog. Every homicide detective wanted their John or Jane Doe prints yesterday, but sometimes the bodies had to go into the refrigeration rooms pending the process, which made a lousy job even worse.
Byrne hung up the phone. ‘Judy’s on.’
Jessica smiled. ‘Lucky us.’
Judy Brannon was in her late thirties, single, and looking. She was also fearless. Jessica had once visited the morgue on a high-profile case, with the intention of walking the prints through the system. She watched Judy Brannon trying to get prints from a cold corpse when all of a sudden, in the middle of the process, the dead man’s hand contracted, closing around Judy’s wrist. Jessica had jumped a foot when it happened – not to mention enduring two sleepless nights as a result – but Judy had remained completely calm throughout.
In addition to her valiant work, and rather Rubenesque figure, Judy Brannon had a mad crush on Kevin Byrne.
‘Bring me back something sweet,’ Jessica said to Byrne as he walked out the door, heading to the morgue.
‘Besides myself?’ he asked.
‘Not that sweet.’
The zoning records for the city of Philadelphia were located at the concourse level of the Licenses and Inspections offices at 15th and JFK. The area dedicated to studying the archives was a warren of drab gray
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