What Katz and Dr. Shade had done for me was to create two scenes. One was to simulate a body in a basement by monitoring the postmortem changes that take place in dark, refrigerated conditions. The other was to place a body outside in similar conditions for the same length of time.
The basement scene had been staged in the only building on the Farm, which was nothing more than a cinder-block shed. Our helper, the husband with cancer, had been placed on a cement slab inside, and a plyboard box had been built around him to protect him from predators and changes in the weather. Photographs had been taken daily, and Dr. Shade was showing them to me now. The first few days revealed virtually no change to the body. Then I began to note that the eyes and fingers were drying.
"Are you ready to do this?" Dr. Shade asked.
I returned the photographs to their envelope. "Let's take a look."
They lifted off the crate, and I squatted near the body to study it carefully. The husband was a small, thin man who had died with white stubble on his chin and a perfect Popeye tattoo of an anchor on an arm. After six days in his plyboard crypt, his eyes were sunken, his skin doughy, and there was discoloration of his left lower quadrant.
His wife, on the other hand, had not fared nearly so well, even though the weather conditions outside the hut were very similar to those inside. But it had rained once or twice, my colleagues said. At times she had been in the sun, and buzzard feathers nearby helped explain some of the damage I saw. The discoloration of her body was much more marked, the skin slipping badly and not the least bit doughy.
I silently observed her for a while in a wooded area not far from the shed, where she lay on her back, naked, on leaves from surrounding locust, hickory, and ironwood trees. She looked older than her husband and was so stooped and wizened by age that her body had reverted to a childlike androgynous state. Her nails were painted pink, and she had dentures and pierced ears.
"We've got him turned over if you want to look," Katz called out.
I went back to the shed and squatted by the husband again while Dr. Shade directed a flashlight at the marks on the back. The pattern left by an iron drain was easy to recognize, but those left by nails were straight red streaks that looked more like burns. It was the marks left by coins that fascinated us the most, especially one left by a quarter. Upon close scrutiny, I could barely make out the partial outline of an eagle left on the man's skin, and I got out Emily's photographs and made comparisons.
"What I've figured out," Dr. Shade said, "is the impurities in the metal cause the coin to oxidize unevenly while the body's on top of it. So you get blank spots, an irregular imprint, very much like a shoe print, which usually isn't complete, either, unless the weight is distributed uniformly and you're standing on a perfectly flat surface."
"Have they done image enhancement with the Steiner photographs?" Katz asked.
"The FBI labs are working on it," I said.
"Well, they can really be slow," Katz said.
"They're so backed up, and it just gets worse all the time because there are so many more cases."
"And you know how it goes with budgets."
"Ours is already bare bones."
"Thomas, Thomas, that's a terrible pun."
In fact, I had personally paid for the plyboard in this experiment. I had offered to furnish an air conditioner, too, but because of the weather, that had not been needed.
"It's hard as hell to get politicians excited about what we do out here. Or about what you do, Kay."
"The problem is, the dead don't vote," I said.
"I've heard of cases where they did." We drove back along Neyland Drive, and I followed the river with my eyes. At a bend in it I could see the top of the Farm's back fence peeking above trees, and I thought of the River Styx. I thought of crossing the water and ending up in that place as the husband and wife from our work had done. I thanked them in my mind, for the dead were silent armies I mustered to save us all.
"Too bad you couldn't have gotten here earlier," said Katz, who was always so kind.
"You missed quite a game yesterday," Dr. Shade added.
"I feel like I saw it," I said.
19
I did not follow Wesley's advice but returned to my same room at the Hyatt. I did not want to spend the rest of the day moving into someplace new when I had many calls to make and a plane to catch.
But I was very alert as I walked through the lobby and got on the elevator. I looked at every woman, and then remembered I should pay attention to men, too, for Denesa Steiner was very clever. She had spent most of her life in deceptions and incredible schemes, and I knew how intelligent evil could be.
I saw no one who caught my eye as I walked briskly to my room. But I got my revolver out of the briefcase I had checked in baggage. I had it next to me on the bed as I got on the phone. First, I called Green Top, and Jon, who answered, was very nice. He had waited on me many times, and I did not hesitate to ask pointed questions about my niece.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," he said again.
"I just couldn't believe it when I read the papers."
"She is doing well," I said.
"Her guardian angel was with her that night."
"She's a special young lady. You must be proud of her." It occurred to me that I was no longer sure, and the thought made me feel terrible.
"Jon, I need to know several important details. Were you working when she came in that night and bought the Sig?"
"Sure. I'm the one who sold it to her."
"Did she get anything else?"
"An extra magazine, several boxes of hollow points. Uhhhh. I think they were Federal Hydra-Shok. Yup, pretty sure of that. Let's see. I also sold her an Uncle Mike's paddle holster, and the same ankle holster I sold to you last spring. A top-of-the-line Bianchi in leather."
"How did she pay?"
"Cash, and that surprised me a little, to be honest. Her bill was pretty high, as you might imagine." Lucy had been good about saving money over the years, and I had given her a substantial check when she turned twenty-one. But she had charge cards, so I assumed she didn't use them because she didn't want a record of her purchase, and that didn't necessarily surprise me. She was afraid and very paranoid, as are most people who have been intensely exposed to law enforcement. For people like us, everybody is a suspect. We tend to overreact, look over our shoulders, and cover our tracks when we feel the slightest bit threatened.
"Did Lucy have an appointment with you or did she just stop in?" I asked.
"She had called first and said exactly when she would be here. In fact, she even called again to confirm."
"Did she talk to you both times?"
"No, just the first time. The second time Rick answered the phone."
"Can you tell me exactly what she said to you when she called the first time?"
"Not much. She said she'd been talking to Captain Marino, who had recommended the Sig P230 and he had also recommended that she deal with me. As you may know, the captain and I fish together. Anyway, she asked if I would still be here around eight p.m. on Wednesday."
"Do you remember what day she called?"
"Well, it was just a day or two before she wanted to come in. I think it was the Monday before. And by the way, I asked her early on if she was twenty-one."
"Did she tell you she is my niece?"
"Yes, she did, and she sure reminded me a lot of you-even your voices sound alike. You both have sort of deep, quiet voices. But she really was very impressive on the phone. Extremely intelligent and polite. She seemed familiar with guns and clearly had done a fair amount of shooting. In fact, she told me that the captain's given her lessons. "