“And I’m assuming that could kill you,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “That most certainly could.”
“What about when you come up and go down too fast?”
He had moved to the other side of the table so he could watch.
“Pressure changes, or barotraurna, associated with descent or ascent aren’t very likely in the depth he was diving.
And as you can see, his tissues aren’t spongy as I would expect them to be were he a death by barotraurna. Would you like some protective clothing?”
“So I can look like I work for Terminex?” Marino looked in Roche’s direction.
“Just hope you don’t get AIDS, II Roche wanly said from far away.
Marino put on apron and gloves as I began explaining the pertinent negatives I needed to look for in order to also rule out a death by decompression or the bends, or drowning. It was when I inserted an eighteen-gauge needle into the trachea to obtain a sample of air for cyanide testing that Roche decided to leave. He rapidly walked across the room, paper rattling as he collected his evidence bag from a counter, “so we won’t know anything until you do tests,” he said from the doorway.
“That’s correct. For now his cause and manner of death are pending.” I paused and looked up at him. “You’ll get a copy of my report when it’s complete. And I’d like to see his personal effects before you leave.”
He would come no closer, and my hands were bloody.
I looked at Marino. “Would you mind?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He went to him, took the bag and gruffly said, “Come on. We’ll go through it in the hall so you can get some air. ” They walked just beyond the doorway, and as I continued to work, paper rattled some more. I heard Marino drop the magazine from a pistol, open the slide and loudly complain that the gun had not been made safe.
“I can’t believe you’re carrying this thing around loaded,” Marino’s voice boomed.
“Jesus Christ! You know, it’s not like this is your firiggin’ lunch in a bag.”
“It’s not been processed for prints yet.”
“Well, then you put on gloves and dump the ammo like I just did. And then you clear the chamber, the way I just did. Where’d you go? The Keystone Police Academy where they also must have taught you your gentlemanly manners?”
Marino went on, and it was now clear to me why he had taken Roche into the hall, and it wasn’t for fresh air. Danny glanced across the table at me and grinned.
Moments later Marino returned to us shaking his head, and Roche was gone. I was relieved, and it showed.
“Good God,” I said. “What’s his story?”
“He thinks with the head God gave him,” Marino said.
“The one between his legs.”
“Like I said,” Danny replied, “he’s been down here a couple of times before, bothering Dr. Mant about things.
But what I didn’t tell you is he always talked to him upstairs. He never would come down to the morgue.”
“I’m shocked,” Marino drolly said.
“I heard that when he was in the police academy he called in sick the day they were supposed to come down here for the demo autopsy,” Danny went on. “Plus, he just got transferred over from juvenile. So he’s been a homicide detective for only about two months.”
“Oh, now that’s good,” Marino said. “Just the kind of person we want working something like this.” I asked him, “Can you smell the cyanide?”
“Nope. Right now all I smell is my cigarette, which is exactly how I want it.”
“Danny?”
“No, ma’am.” He sounded disappointed.
“So far I’m seeing no evidence that this is a diving death. No bubbles in the heart or thorax. No subcutaneous emphysema. No water in the stomach or lungs. I can’t tell if
he’s congested.” I cut another section of heart. “Well, he does have congestion of the heart, but is it due to the left heart failing the right-just due to dying, in other words?
And he does have some reddening of the stomach wall, which is consistent with cyanide.”