"Hi, Tim." Connor and I approached the table. I could see the dissection was already well advanced, that the Y-shaped incision had been made, and the first organs removed and placed neatly on stainless steel trays.
"Now maybe somebodycan tell me, what is the big deal about this case?" Tim said. "Graham is so pissed off he won't say anything. He went next door to the lab to see the first of the results. But I still want to know why I got called out of bed to do this one. Mark's on duty, but he is apparently not senior enough to do it. And of course the M.E. is out of town at a conference in San Francisco. Now that he has that new girlfriend he is always out of town. So I get called. I can't remember the last time I got called out of bed."
"You can't?" I said. Dr. Tim was precise in all ways, including his memory.
"The last time was January three years ago. But that was to cover. Most of the staff was out with the flu, and the cases were backing up. Finally one night we ran out of lockers. They had these bodies lying around on the floor in bags. Stacked up in piles. Something had to be done. The smell was terrible. But no, I can't remember being called out just because a case was politically tense. Like this one."
Connor said, "We're not sure why it is tense, either."
"Maybe you better find out. Because there's a lot of pressure here. The M.E. calls me from San Francisco, and he keeps saying, 'Do it now, do it tonight, and get it done.' I say, 'Okay, Bill.' Then he says, 'Listen, Tim. Do this one right. Go slow, take lots of pictures and lots of notes. Document your ass off. Shoot with two cameras. Because I got a feeling that anybody who has anything to do with this case could get into deep shit.' So. It's natural to wonder what the big deal is."
Connor said, "What time was that call to you?"
"About ten-thirty, eleven."
"The M.E. say who called him?"
"No. But it's usually only one of two people: the chief of police or the mayor."
Tim looked at the liver, pulling apart the lobes, then placed it on a steel tray. The assistant was taking flash pictures of each organ and then setting it aside.
"So? What've you found?"
"Frankly, the most interesting findings so far are external," Dr. Tim said. "She had heavy makeup on her neck, to cover a pattern of multiple contusions. Bruises of different ages. Without a spectroscopic curve for the hemoglobin breakdown products at the bruise sites, I'd still say these bruises are of variable age, up to two weeks old. Perhaps older. Consistent with a pattern of repeated, chronic cervical trauma. I don't think there's any question: we're looking at a case of sexual asphyxia."
"She's a gasper?"
"Yeah. She is."
Kelly thought so. For once Kelly was right.
"It's more common in men, but it is certainly reported in women. The syndrome is the individual is sexually aroused only by the hypoxia of near-strangulation. These individuals ask their sexual partners to strangle them, or put a plastic bag over their head. When they're alone, they sometimes tie a cord around their neck, and hang themselves while they masturbate. Since the effect requires that they are strangled almost to the point of passing out, it's easy to make a mistake and go too far. They do, all the time."
"And in this case?"
Tim shrugged. "Well. She has physical findings consistent with a sexual asphyxia syndrome of long standing. And she has ejaculate in her vagina and abrasions on her external vaginal labia, consistent with a forced sexual episode on the same night of her death."
Connor said, "You're sure the vaginal abrasions occurred before death?"
"Oh, yes. They are definitely antemortem injuries. There's no question she had forced sex sometime before she died."
"Are you saying she was raped?"
"No. I wouldn't go that far. As you see, the abrasions are not severe, and there are no associated injuries to other parts of her body. In fact, there are no signs of physical struggle at all. So I would consider the findings consistent with premature vaginal entry with insufficient lubrication of the external labia."
I said, "You're saying she wasn't wet."
Tim looked pained. "Well. In crude layman's terms."
"How long before death did these abrasions occur?"
"It could be as much as an hour or two. It wasn't near the actual time of death. You can tell that from the extravasation and swelling of the affected areas. If death occurs soon after the injury, blood flow stops, and therefore the swelling is limited or absent. In this case, as you see, swelling is quite pronounced."
"And the sperm?"
"Samples have gone to the lab. Along with all her usual fluids." He shrugged. "Have to wait and see. Now, are you two going to fill me in? Because it looks to me like this little girl was going to get in trouble, sooner or later. I mean, she's cute, but she's screwed up. So . . . what is the big deal? Why am I out of bed in the middle of the night to do a careful, documented post on some little gasper?"
I said, "Beats me."
"Come on. Fair is fair," Dr. Tim said. "I showed you mine, now you show me yours."
"Why, Tim," Connor said. "You made a joke."
"Fuck you," Tim said. "You guys owe me. Come on."
"I'm afraid Peter is telling you the truth," Connor said. "All we know is that this murder occurred at the time of a big public Japanese reception, and they are eager to get it cleared up right away."
"That makes sense," Tim said. "The last time the shit hit the fan around here, it was because of that thing involving the Japanese consulate. Remember, the Takashima kidnapping case? Maybe you don't remember: it never made the papers. The Japanese managed to keep it veryquiet. But anyway, a guard was killed under odd circumstances, and for two days, they put a hell of a pressure on our office. I was amazed what they could do. We had Senator Rowe calling us in person, telling us what to do. The governor calling in person. Everybody calling us. You'd think it was the president's kid. I mean, these people have influence."
"Of course they do. They've paid handsomely for it," Graham said, coming into the room.
"Close the door," Tim said.
"But this time, all their fucking influence won't help," Graham said. "Because this time, we have them by the short and curlies. We have a murder: and based on the lab results so far, we can say without question that the murderer was Japanese."
¤
The pathology lab next door was a large room lit by even banks of fluorescent lights. Rows of microscopes, neatly laid out. But late at night, only two technicians were working in the big space. And Graham was standing beside them, gloating.
"Look for yourself. Pubic hair comb-through reveals male pubic hair, moderate curl, ovoid cross section, almost certainly Asian in origin. The first semen analysis is blood type: AB, relatively rare among Caucasians, but much more common among Asians. The first analysis of protein in the seminal fluid comes up negative for the genetic marker for . . . what's it called?"
"Ethanol dehydrogenase," the technician said.
"Right. Ethanol dehydrogenase. It's an enzyme. Missing in Japanese. And missing in this seminal fluid. And there's the Diego factor, which is a blood-group protein. So. We have more tests coming, but it seems clear that this girl had forced sex with a Japanese man before she was killed by him."