Page 27 of Random in Death
She’d made good time on her commute, so she’d arrived a few minutes early. And knowing Peabody’s aversion to watching Morris dig into the dead, she expected her partner might arrive a few minutes late.
When she pushed through the double doors, Morris stood over Jenna Harbough. Her body lay naked, split open by his precise Y-cut.
The music he played, for the dead as much as himself, Eve knew—Avenue A.
“I appreciate you coming in on a Sunday morning, and brought coffee.”
“Endless gratitude,” he said.
Since Jenna’s blood coated his sealed hands, she set it on the counter by his sink.
Rather than his usual suit under the protective cape, he wore jeans—black—a T-shirt—white. He’d twisted his long black hair into a single braid.
Walking back, Eve flanked Jenna on the other side of the slab.
“Young, pretty, a bud that will never blossom.” After removing the liver, Morris weighed it, scanned it. Behind their clear shield, his eyes held the compassion she’d assured the victim’s parents he had.
Eve looked down at Jenna. “No external indications of illegals or alcohol abuse.”
“And no internal indications that I’ve found. The lab will do a full tox, of course, but my preliminary conclusion is we have a healthy dead girl. Teeth, bones, skin, muscle, organs show good nutrition and exercise. Her hymen’s intact, so any sexual activity didn’t include penetration.
“Calluses on her fingertips. Guitar player?”
“I can’t say, but music was her thing.”
“You’ll see a slight blister on the side of her left pinkie toe. My conclusion—new shoes. Otherwise, only the needle mark on her left biceps.”
“She had two friends with her. Both of them state they were dancing together near the stage. The victim grabbed her arm, said somebody jabbed her.”
“I’d take that as truth.”
He walked back to the sink to rinse his hands, then picked up the coffee.
“Ah, is there a richer nectar of all the gods and goddesses?” He drank, then set the cup down again. “Jabbed is an accurate word. The needle went in hard—enough that the impact caused mild bruising before death. And, from your on-site, began infection in only minutes. Not just a needle, Dallas, a dirty one. A dull one.”
Rather than microgoggles, he used the scanner, brought the wound on-screen, enlarged.
She studied the image. The site showed swelling, a raw red fan circling the puncture, and that mild bruising he’d spoken of.
“No matter how I play it, it couldn’t have been ten minutes from the time the needle went in until she was dying in the alley. What does this that fucking fast?”
“We haven’t found a syringe or needle yet, so I can’t analyze them. But from the wound, the rapid spread of infection? I think not just a dirty needle, but one treated with a substance, a bacteria or virus.”
Her eyes narrowed at the image on his screen. “Is that what killed her? Inside minutes?”
“No, simply caused her more pain and distress. We’ll need that tox report, but again, my preliminary indicates a mix, a deadly one. From the blue tinge to her skin, nails, lips? Likely heroin, but—”
He broke off when Peabody came in.
“Good morning, Peabody.”
She gave him a wan smile and studiously avoided looking at the body. “I chugged a double espresso, so it’s almost good. It’s only two minutes after eight,” she said to Eve.
“I made good time. But?” she said to Morris.
“Given the rapidity of reaction, the narrow window between injection and death? I believe they’ll find at least one other agent in the mix. What can you tell me about her actions, reactions, symptoms within that window?”
While Eve ran it through for him, Morris nodded, moved back to lay a hand on Jenna’s forehead.