Apparently she went into the den and shot herself in the chest.”
Possible views were of other poor souls who during the night had died from myocardial infarcts and wrecks in cars.
I turned down an elderly woman who clearly was a victim of cancer, and an indi-ent man who had succumbed to his t, coronary disease. Finally, we pushed back chairs and I went downstairs. My staff was respectful of my space and did not question what I was going through. No one spoke on the elevator as I stared straight ahead at shut doors, and in the locker room we put on gowns and washed our hands in silence. I was pulling on shoe covers and gloves when Fielding got close to me and spoke in my ear, “Why don’t you let me take care of him?” His eyes were earnest on mine.
“I’ll handle it,” I said. “But thank you.”
“Dr. Scarpetta, don’t put yourself through it, you know’?
I wasn’t here the week he came in. I never met him.”
“It’s okay, Jack.” I walked away.
This was not the first time I had autopsied people I knew, and most police and even the other doctors did not always understand. They argued that the findings were more objective if someone else did the case, and this simply wasn’t true as long as there were witnesses. Certainly, I had not known Danny intimately or for long, but he had worked for me, and in a way had died for me. I would give him the best that I had.
He was on a gurney parked next to table one, where I usually did my cases, and the sight of him this morning was worse and hit me with staggering force. He was cold and in full rigor, as if what had been human in him had given up during the night,
after I had left him. Dried blood smeared his face, and his lips were parted as if he had tried to speak when life had fled from him. His eyes stared the slitted dull stare of the dead, and I saw his red brace and remembered him mopping the floor. I remembered his t, cheerfulness, and the sad look on his face when he talked about Ted Eddings and other young people suddenly gone.
“Jack.” I motioned for Fielding.
He almost trotted to my side. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“I’m going to take you up on your offer.” I began labeling test tubes on a surgical cart.
“I could use your help i f you’re sure you’re up to it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“We’ll do him together.”
“Not a problem. You want me to scribe?”
“Let’s photograph him as he is but cover the table with a sheet first,” I said.
Danny’s case number was ME-3096, which meant he was the thirtieth case of the new year in the central district of Virginia. After hours of refrigeration he was not cooperative, and when we lifted him onto the table, arms and legs loudly banged against stainless steel as if protesting what we were about to do. We removed dirty, bloody clothing. Arms resisted coming out of sleeves, and tight-fitting jeans were Stubborn. I dipped my hands in pockets, and came up with twenty-seven cents in change, a Chap Stick and a ring of keys.
“That’s weird,” I said as we folded garments and placed them on top of the gurney covered by a disposable sheet.
“What happened to my car key?”
“Was it one of those remote-control ones?”
“Right.” Velcro ripped as I removed the knee brace.
“And obviously, it wasn’t anywhere at the scene.”
“We didn’t find it. And since it wasn’t in the ignition, I assumed Danny would have had it.” I was pulling off thick athletic socks.
“Well, I guess the killer Could have taken it, or it could have gotten lost.”
I thought of the helicopter making a bigger mess, and I had heard that Marino had been on the news. He was shaking his fist and yelling for all the world to see, and I was there, too.
“Okay, he’s got tattoos.” Fielding picked up the clipboard.
Danny had a pair of dice inked into the top of his feet.