This was an unexpected reward. When Deputy Chief Fielding finally got hold of me the night of Beryl’s murder, I had instructed him to wait for me at the morgue. I got there shortly before one A.M. and we spent the next several hours examining Beryl’s body under the laser and collecting every particle and fiber that lit up. I had just assumed most of what we found would prove worthless debris from Beryl’s own clothing or house. The idea of finding ten fibers deposited by the assailant was astonishing. In most cases I was lucky to find one unknown fiber and considered myself blessed to find two or three. I frequently had cases where I didn’t find any. Fibers are hard to see, even with a lens, and the slightest disturbance of the body or the faintest stirring of air can dislodge them long before the medical examiner arrives at the scene or the body is transported to the morgue.
“What sort of synthetics?” I asked.
“Olefin, acrylic, nylon, polyethylene, and Dynel, with the majority of them being nylon,” Joni replied. “The colors vary: red, blue, green, gold, orange. Microscopically they’re inconsistent with each other as well.”
She began placing one slide after another on the stereoscope’s stage and peering through the lens.
She explained, “Logitudinally, some are striated, some aren’t. Most of them contain titanium dioxide in a variety of densities, meaning some are a semidull luster, others dull, a few bright. The diameters are all rather coarse, suggestive of carpet-type fibers, but on cross section the shapes vary.”
“Ten different origins?”
I asked.
“That’s the way it looks at this point,” she said. “Definitely atypical. If these fibers were transferred by the assailant, he was carrying an unusual variety of fibers on his person. Obviously, the coarser ones aren’t from his clothing because they’re carpet-type fibers. And they’re not from any of the carpets inside her house. For him to have such a variety is peculiar for another reason. You pick up fibers all day long, but they don’t stay with you. You sit somewhere and pick up fibers, and a little later they’re brushed off when you sit somewhere else. Or the air dislodges them.”
It got more perplexing. Joni turned another page in her notebook and said, “I’ve also put the vacuumings under the scope, Dr. Scarpetta. The debris Marino vacuumed off the prayer rug, in particular, is a real hodgepodge.”
She skimmed a list. “Tobacco ash, pinkish paper particles consistent with the stamp on cigarette packs, glass beads, a couple bits of broken glass consistent with beer bottle and headlight glass. As usual, there are pieces and parts of bugs, vegetable debris, also one spherical metal ball. And a lot of salt.”
“As in table salt?”
“That’s right,” she said. “All this was on her prayer rug?”
I asked. “Also from the area of the floor where her body was found,” she replied. “And a lot of the same debris was on her body, in her nail scrapings, and in her hair.”
Beryl didn’t smoke. There was no reason for tobacco ash or particles from a cigarette pack stamp to be found inside her house. Salt is associated with food, and it didn’t make sense for salt to be upstairs or on her body.
“Marino brought in six different vacuurnings, all of them from carpets and areas of the floor where blood was found,” Joni said. “In addition, I’ve looked at the control sample vacuumings taken from areas of her house or carpets where there was no blood or evidence of a struggle –areas where the police think the killer didn’t go. The vacuumings are significantly different. The debris I just listed was found only in those areas where the killer was thought to have been, suggesting that most of this material was transferred from him to the scene and her body. It may have been clinging to his shoes, his clothing, his hair. Everywhere he went, everything he brushed up against collected some of this debris.”
“He must be a veritable Pig Pen,” I said.
“This stuff is almost invisible to the naked eye,” the ever-serious Joni reminded me, “He probably wouldn’t have a clue he was carrying so much trace on his person.”