A Simple Lie Read online

  Val tried to remember what she read in the textbooks about rigor mortis, lividity and body cooling. All of these circumstances of decomposition would help her estimate this.

  As she tried to move the man’s arms, it was obvious that they were starting to grow stiff. He was definitely in rigor. So, he’s been dead at least a few hours.

  Lividity is the settling of the blood in the body. When it stops circulating it causes dark purple patches on the skin where it comes to rest. The process starts anywhere from twenty minutes to three hours after death. There were no purple spots that she could see.

  He was slightly cool to the touch. The body temperature decreases at a rate of about one to two degrees Fahrenheit per hour until the temperature of the surrounding environment is reached.

  How did all of this pertain to how long this man’s been dead? Why the hell was there no sign of lividity?

  She tried hard to think of a response. The people standing around staring at her, quietly yet impatiently, waiting for her to say something, didn’t help matters. If she didn’t say anything soon, she’d look like an idiot. Val finally opened her mouth and spoke.

  “It is awfully warm in here. When was the last time someone saw him alive? That would help narrow things down and be the best indication because the temperature of the room can have a big effect on decomposition.” She was happy with the impromptu response. It seemed to work as the quiet crowd quickly started to discuss a possible answer.

  “We don’t have an exact time,” the nurse said. “He lives here with his, well, I think his wife. I’m not sure. I’m not their usual nurse. Today’s my first day with them. I’ve been trying to ask her questions but she’s a little out of it, Alzheimer’s maybe. I don’t think she understands he’s deceased.”

  Howie chimed in, “Val, why don’t you try to get some information from the wife? She’s probably the best one to answer your question since she was the last one to see him alive. Oh, and you’ll probably also have to confirm she knows her husband’s dead first, since the nurse seems to think she’s not up to speed on that.”

  She shot him a worried look. He only responded with raised eyebrows and a nod of the head signaling a stern Go to it.

  Death was her job now, and she knew she had to handle the circumstances associated with it, all of them, even the emotionally difficult ones, such as talking delicately with surviving family members to gain the information she needed.

  The little old lady sat in the armchair. Her gaze was glued to the TV set and she didn’t even turn her head when Val sheepishly approached her. She was so frail-looking, but, oddly, seemed at peace. Her face was serene, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Val wondered what would happen when she forced the harsh reality of death upon her.

  Her small spindly fingers, shaking slightly, grasped the blanket that covered her legs. Val noticed the woman wore purple fingernail polish and decided to start there. “I like your nail color.”

  The woman turned her head and smiled at Val. She let go of the blanket and held up her hands to show off all ten of her fingers. “It’s called ‘Orchid Frost’. Let me see yours.” The voice was as rickety as the fingers.

  “I’m afraid mine aren’t as nice.” Val held up her own hands to reveal digits that desperately needed a trip to the manicurist.

  “Oh, Helen could fix that for you. That’s my niece. She works in a beauty parlor.”

  Val took a deep breath, preparing to get the needed information. She placed her hand on the woman’s arm in a sympathetic manner. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your husband is…” She wasn’t quite sure of what to say and hesitated.

  The woman spoke first. “Husband? Who, Herbert? He’s not my husband.” The woman smiled again at Val and whispered, as if sharing a personal secret to a female friend. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  Val swallowed hard, not sure if she could do this or not. She said a few things gingerly, trying to explain that Herbert was dead, but the woman didn’t seem to comprehend what she was saying. She tried again.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Herbert has passed.” Val raised her voice, making the obvious mistake of thinking if she talked louder the woman might understand better. She looked to the nurse for help but the nurse just shrugged her shoulders and backed away.

  Confusion grew.

  “Passed? What do you mean, passed?” the elderly woman asked.

  “He’s dead,” Val finally shouted and then placed her hand over her mouth in repentance for saying such a blatant and insensitive thing. “He died,” she added quickly with a more sympathetic manner, but the damage was done. Everyone had been trying to treat the old woman like a coddled child being told of the death of a pet. Reality was out in the open now.

  “Dead?” The woman turned her head and took the statement in. There was a moment of silence and everything seemed to move in slow motion, as Val prepared for her to break down. Howie moved towards her, ready to intercept.

  Then the unexpected happened. The lady yelled, “I knew it! He was too quiet! Didn’t bother me all day. It was the first time in two years he didn’t bother me about something. I got to watch all of my shows today without one interruption. I was going to check on him after Dr. Oz but Ginny showed up before it was over.” The woman pointed at the nurse when she said Ginny.

  “I’m not Ginny,” the nurse said. “Ginny’s her regular nurse, I’m Susan.” Susan thumbed through her notes. “From what I have in my file, her niece Helen visits regularly. Her phone number is listed in the file. I’ll give her a call. This lady shouldn’t stay here alone.”

  Val nodded her head in agreement and then went back into the room with the body. After the success with the old woman, her nerves eased and she could focus better. She couldn’t see any lividity immediately. But since this man was sitting, and gravity pools blood downward in a dead person, she knew where she needed to look. Howie helped her ease the man from the commode down to the ground and she inspected the man’s backside. Except the parts that touched the toilet seat, eggplant-colored splotches were on both cheeks. Val remembered another area where the blood would settle on a deceased individual found in a sitting position and pulled off his slippers. The soles of his feet matched the buttocks.

  Core body temperature would be her next clue and she prepared to take a reading. She pulled an eight-inch thermometer from her bag. She’d have to make a small incision through which she would insert the thermometer directly into the liver. Feeling around the man’s abdomen, Val took out a scalpel, located the right area and without hesitation, made a slice and pushed the thermometer through.

  She cringed when she realized this motion had the same resistance as the time she used a meat probe to check a Thanksgiving turkey for doneness.

  “I’d have to say he died about three to four hours ago,” she informed Howie as she looked at the digital display on the thermometer. It read ninety-five degrees. “Everything is consistent with this time frame.”

  He nodded in agreement with her findings.

  This man would have to have an autopsy of course, but it seemed like his death was due to natural causes. She’d heard of people having aneurisms on the toilet as they strained too hard to go. Many were found exactly as this man was found. Slumped over, still on the seat. This was thoroughly detailed in the natural deaths section of the death investigation textbook.

  Val exhaled in relief, proud of her accomplishment. She was able to take care of the situation without much help from Howie. Things were a little rough at the beginning but she got through it. What was I nervous about? I can do this.

  After getting the necessary information and collecting the medications in the bathroom cabinet, she released the body to go to the medical examiner’s office. As she was doing so, Howie’s cell phone went off. He spent several minutes talking, and when he hung up, he told Val the next order of business.

  “You did so good here, why don’t you take this one solo?” Howie offered. “It’s a pretty simple one. Just skeletoni
zed remains found at a landfill.”

  7

  The sun was just beginning to set when Gavin and Warren arrived at the Lockland Landfill, twenty minutes south of the city of Buffalo.

  The stench of garbage was foul and the sounds of the seagulls squawking overhead was deafening. Gavin, who had barely slept in the last twenty-four hours, thought the top of his head would explode from the unremitting noise. The events of today were only going to add to the unbearable stress he was under.

  Just forty-eight hours after the discovery of Jeanne Coleman’s skull, Francine Donohue’s teeth are found. Several days after that, more human remains are discovered in this landfill. For two months there had been no clues, no additional body parts. Now they show up in rapid succession? Their discovery seemed planned, and from what was here, it appeared as if the killer’s strategy was evolving. In addition to a skull, this time there was also an arm. The media was going to have a field day with this.

  Warren pointed at a man coming towards them.

  “You have to see it. It’s just crazy. The arm’s all dried up, like it’s mummified. The skull has no skin on it. It’s only bone,” Todd Spencer, the manager of the landfill, said. They walked with him to the location of the bones.

  “Were they found together?” Warren asked.

  “Yeah, both came out of the same pile. No other parts were with them. All the teeth were missing from the skull,” Todd said.

  Gavin stared at the remains. They’d been found together but looked entirely different. The color of the arm was brown and the skin resembled dried parchment. With its desiccated appearance it seemed brittle, as if it would crack at any moment. Its fingers were shriveled and curled inward. Gavin remembered that Jeanne Coleman’s skull had also been stripped of its skin and desiccated. According to Dr. Blythe it was probably exposed to a heat source. He’d even gone so far as to imply that someone baked it.

  This skull was completely skeletonized, but didn’t look dried out, like the arm. There was no way this was an unintended find, though. Their states were so different that they couldn’t have decomposed under the same conditions. Which means they had been deliberately placed here. They were meant to be found together; like this.

  “We need this area taped off and a grid laid down for excavation,” Gavin ordered with a sense of urgency to Warren.

  Warren grabbed his phone and began to call for back up.

  “Mr. Spencer, what time were these found?” Gavin asked.

  “About 5pm.”

  “It’s almost seven now. We’re going to need some lights out here. It’ll be dark soon and it’s going to be a long night.”

  Val turned the car radio up as she drove towards the Lockland Landfill, hoping to catch the end of the show. She had been listening to Crime in the City. It was the radio counterpart to the cable television program of the same name. Howie told her about this series that portrayed true crime stories, and after listening once, she was addicted. Tonight’s case had her hooked.

  The episode was going to reveal how the renowned criminal investigator Thomas Hayden challenged a pathologist’s findings about a murdered woman. She was becoming acquainted with Thomas Hayden through these broadcasts. Many high-profile cases had his name attached and he seemed to be a messiah to the criminally condemned. When compared to the other criminal investigators, he had almost a celebrity status.

  In tonight’s case, Mr. Hayden said the manner of death was suicide, corroborating the husband’s defense strategy, when all of the evidence, including the pathology report, dictated that suicide was impossible. The husband said he heard a gunshot and when he walked into the bedroom, his wife lay dead with a self-inflicted wound to the stomach.

  The only problem was that the firearm was a rifle. There was no way she could have reached the trigger for a self-inflicted wound. Plus, the entrance wound was in her back and the exit was the stomach. Not only that, there was confusion over powder burns and how close the gun was. It was suggested that she was shot from four to five feet away. There was no way that this was suicide. It was an open-and-shut case. The husband had been sitting in a jail cell for the last ten years when his case came up for an appeal.

  Thomas Hayden, who had reviewed the case at the urging of the convicted husband’s brother, saw the error. The entrance wound was mistaken for the exit wound.

  On her back was the characteristic circumferential marginal abrasion so typical of an entering bullet while her chest bore torn jagged edges of a much larger wound exemplifying the bullet’s exiting path. This finding needed interpretation and explanation because this case was indeed suicide, especially after Thomas reviewed the clothing the woman wore the night of her death.

  The gun was held against the victim’s chest, and as the bullet entered it was impeded by the zipper of her sweater and the underwire of her bra. The bullet pushed the metal objects ahead, ripping the skin as the bullet entered. Furthermore, the victim was sitting against a wall and as the bullet exited through her back the bullet hit the strap of her bra, where the skin was crushed, leaving a well-defined wound. An examination of the clothing proved it. Photos of the wound on the victim’s back even showed the pattern of the sweater in her skin around the injury.

  Thomas Hayden also determined that while holding the gun upside down, she had plenty of room to pull the trigger, especially if she was sitting down on the floor with the nozzle in her chest. This information helped the jury render an innocent verdict in the retrial and the accused was set free. The show went to commercial as Val drove through the gates of the landfill site. She immediately wondered if she was in the right place. She was only supposed to collect some skeletal remains but the place looked like a disaster zone.

  Several other vehicles were in front of her, each taking a long time before either going through or being turned away by the officer who was blocking the entrance. She waited anxiously, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

  What is going on? All of the local news vans were here. Cameras were set up and reporters with microphones scurried around. The landfill was lit up by the red flashing lights of squad cars and in the distance she could see an area of bright white illumination making that section glow as if it were daytime.

  Slowly, she pulled her car up to the uniformed officer. He put his hand up, signaling for her to stop. She rolled down the window.

  “Sorry ma’am. No admittance.”

  “I was sent from the Erie County Medical Examiner’s Office. I’m a death investigator. I’m here to collect the skeletal remains found today.”

  The officer looked at her suspiciously for a moment, and then asked for ID.

  Val’s hung around her neck and she pulled it up so the officer could see it.

  He stared at the badge, and then at her, and after a few seconds finally became convinced she was qualified to be here. “Sorry. Just have to make sure that you’re not a reporter trying to sneak in. You’re new. Haven’t seen you around before.”

  “No. This is my first week.”

  “This is a hell of a way to start. It’s crazy back there. You won’t be able to drive much further. The cars are parking there.” He pointed to a row of squad cars about fifty feet in front of her. “I can radio someone to help you if you have a lot to carry.”

  “Thanks, but I think that I can manage. What’s going on?” she questioned eagerly. Something big had obviously happened here. This wasn’t some simple collection of bones.

  The officer seemed surprised that she didn’t know. “They think the remains belong to one of those women who had their teeth pulled out. Detective Gavin’s in charge. You’ll find him about a quarter mile up the road.”

  Val couldn’t believe what she’d just been told. Big was an understatement. It was huge. She parked the car, then fumbled through her bag, quickly pulling out her phone. She needed to call the office, call Howie. She needed to call someone. There was definitely some screw-up in sending her here. Where was Dr. Blythe? Did he know about this? She couldn�
��t think straight as she tried to decide whom to call first.

  With her fingers ready to press the numbers for Howie, Val stopped. What if this wasn’t a mistake? What if Dr. Blythe was already with the remains and was waiting for his newest death investigator, the dentist, to show up? How incompetent would she look if she had to call for help before even getting out of the car?

  She put the phone away, grabbed her supplies and started off into the landfill, heart pounding, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do when she arrived at her destination.

  Bright lights showed the way. As she got closer, she found Gavin and Warren with a couple of other people. Blythe was not one of them. He was nowhere to be seen.

  One man was talking and motioning at something on the ground. She walked up to the small group and stood silently, hoping to be noticed. When that didn’t happen, she spoke timidly.

  “Excuse me.” Her voice barely audible.

  They continued talking, unaware of her existence. She tried again, louder.

  “Excuse me, sir!”

  This time all the men turned round.

  “I’m Dr. Valentina Knight.”

  “Doctor? I thought you were a death investigator, not a medical examiner,” Gavin said.

  “You’re right. I’m the death investigator,” Val immediately corrected. It was just habit for her to use the title Dr., one she was trying to break. Howie had told her not to do this because it would lead to confusion. As Val tried to explain, she felt the knot that was tied around her tongue tighten. “I’m a dentist with a change in profession.”

  Her awkward response fell like a lead weight on the intent crowd. She wanted to crawl into a hole. What an unprofessional thing to say at such an intense and serious moment. Here she was at an important death scene and she was blowing it, fast.