‘Oh.’ I’d assumed Tom would have been able to identify it.
‘Sorry to disappoint you. Blowflies and beetles are one thing, but I haven’t come across anything like this before. Still, I know someone who should be able to help us. You haven’t met Josh Talbot, have you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ I’d met several of Tom’s colleagues, but the name didn’t ring a bell.
‘He’s our resident forensic entomologist. The man’s a walking insect encyclopaedia. If anyone can tell us what this is, Josh can.’
While he called Talbot I set about rinsing the bones from the exhumed body that had been soaking in detergent overnight. I’d got as far as setting the first of them to dry in the fume cupboard when Tom closed his phone.
‘We’re in luck. He’s about to leave for a conference in Atlanta but he’s going to drop by first. Shouldn’t take him long.’ He began helping me put the bones in the fume cupboard. ‘Did you catch our friend Irving on TV last night, by the way?’
‘If you mean the interview, no, but I saw it this morning.’
‘Lucky you. Must be re-running it.’ Tom smiled and shook his head. ‘You have to hand it to him, he doesn’t miss a chance, does he?’
He’d barely finished speaking when there was a light knock on the door. He frowned. ‘Can’t be Josh already,’ he said, going to open it.
It wasn’t. It was Kyle.
Swallowing his surprise, Tom moved aside to let him in. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back yet. Why aren’t you taking some time off?’
Kyle gave a strained smile. ‘They offered, but it isn’t right that the other guys should have to cover for me. I feel fine. And I guess I’d rather work than sit at home.’
‘How’s the hand?’ I asked.
He held it up to show us. A small plaster on the palm was the only sign of what had happened. Kyle looked at it as though it wasn’t part of him. ‘Not much to look at, is it?’
There was an awkward silence. Tom cleared his throat. ‘So… how are you bearing up?’
‘Oh, pretty good, thanks. Be a while before I get the test results, but I’m looking on the bright side. The hospital said there’re post-exposure treatments for HIV and some other things if I want them. But the way I see it, the body might not even have been infected. And even if it was I might not catch anything, right?’
‘You should still consider them, at least,’ Tom said. He gestured helplessly. ‘Look, I’m sorry about—’
‘Don’t!’ The sharpness showed how much pressure Kyle was under. He gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘Please, don’t apologize. I was just doing my job. Stuff happens, y’know?’
There was an uncomfortable pause. Kyle broke it.
‘So… where’s Summer?’ He did his best to sound casual, but the attempt was no more convincing than before. It wasn’t hard to guess the real reason he’d come to see us.
‘I’m afraid Summer won’t be helping us any more.’
‘Oh.’ His disappointment was obvious. ‘Can I help?’
‘Thanks, but David and I can manage.’
‘Right.’ Kyle nodded emphatically. ‘Well, anything you need, be sure to let me know.’
‘I will. You take care now.’ Tom’s smile lasted only until the door had closed. ‘Lord…’
‘He’s right,’ I said. ‘He was doing his job. It’s no good blaming yourself. And if it comes down to it, it should have been me helping Summer, not him.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, David.’
‘Or yours either. Besides, we don’t know yet that the needle was contaminated. He might be fine.’
It was a faint hope, but no good would come from Tom’s torturing himself. He drew himself up.
‘You’re right. What’s done’s done. Let’s just concentrate on catching this son of a bitch.’
Tom rarely swore, and it was a sign of his agitation that he didn’t seem to realize he had. He went to the door, then paused.
‘Almost forgot. Mary wanted me to ask if you eat fish.’
‘Fish?’ The change of tack threw me. ‘Yes, why?’
‘You’re coming over for dinner tonight.’ The eyebrows climbed as he enjoyed my discomfort. ‘Sam and Paul are coming as well. Don’t tell me you’d forgotten?’
It had completely slipped my mind. ‘No, of course not.’
He grinned, some of his usual humour returning. ‘Perish the thought. Not as though you’ve had anything else to think about, is it?’
There are two hundred and six bones in the adult human body. They vary in size from the femur, the heavy thigh bone, to the tiny ossicles of the inner ear, the smallest no larger than a grain of rice. Structurally, the skeleton is a marvel of biological engineering, as intricate and sophisticated as anything designed by man.
Reassembling it isn’t a straightforward task.
Stripped of any last vestige of decaying tissue, the bare bones of the man buried in Willis Dexter’s casket told their own story. Their African ancestry was now unmistakable, immediately evident in the slightly straighter, lighter bone structure and more rectangular eye orbits. Whoever this was, he’d been of medium height and build, and judging from the wear to his joints he was between his mid-fifties and early sixties. There were long-healed breaks in the right femur and left humerus, both probably the result of childhood accidents, and signs of arthritis on his knee and ankle joints. The damage was more evident on the left than on the right, which meant he had favoured that side when he walked. And the left hip was also badly eroded, the ball and socket pitted and worn. If he hadn’t been contemplating hip replacement surgery when he died, then he would have been all but crippled before much longer.
Not that it made any difference to him now.
Like Terry Loomis’s, the man’s hyoid was still intact. That didn’t mean anything either way, but when I lifted the dripping skull from the vat I smiled grimly to myself. The teeth were still brown and stained, but below where the gum had once been a band of clean enamel was now exposed.
There was no mistaking the pink discoloration.
I was still examining the skull when Tom came in. A short, paunchy man in his fifties was with him. His thinning ginger hair was swept half-heartedly over a reddened crown, and he carried a battered leather briefcase that fairly bulged with books.
‘Josh, I’d like you to meet David Hunter,’ Tom said as he entered. ‘David, this is Josh Talbot. What he doesn’t know about bugs isn’t worth knowing.’
‘He knows I hate that word,’ Talbot said affably. He was already looking round the room, bright-eyed with anticipation. His gaze lingered on the bones, but not for long. They weren’t why he was here.
‘So where’s this mystery insect you’ve got for me?’
When he saw the specimen jar his entire face lit up. He bent down to study it at eye level. ‘Well, now, this is a surprise!’
‘You recognize it?’ Tom asked.
‘Oh, yes. Quite a find, too. There’s only one other part of Tennessee where this species of Odonata has been confirmed. There’ve been sightings round here before, but it isn’t every day you come across one of these beauties.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Tom said. ‘Do you think you could tell us what it is?’
Talbot grinned. ‘Odonata are dragonflies and damselflies. What you’ve got here is a dragonfly nymph. A swamp darner, one of the biggest species in North America. They’re widespread across most eastern states, although less so in Tennessee. Here, I’ll show you.’
He rummaged in his briefcase and produced a thick, dog-eared old textbook. Humming to himself, he set it on the workbench and began flicking through its pages.