Detective Nick Reese hated going into the forbidding, white-walled autopsy room. It smelled of formaldehyde and death. When he walked in the door, the coroner, Helen Chuan, a petite, attractive woman, was waiting for him.
“Morning,” Reese said. “Have you finished with the autopsy?”
“I have a preliminary report for you, Nick. Jane Doe didn’t die from her head injury. Her heart stopped before she hit the table. She died of an overdose of methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”
He sighed. “Don’t do this to me, Helen.”
“Sorry. On the streets, it’s called Ecstasy.” She handed him a coroner’s report. “Here’s what we have so far.”
AUTOPSY PROTOCOL
NAME OF DECEDENT: JANE DOE FILE NO:
C-L96I
ANATOMIC SUMMARY
DILATED AND HYPERTROPHIC CARDIOMYOPATHY CARDIOMEGALY (750 GM)
LEFT VENTRICULAR HYPERTROPHY, HEART (2.3 CM)
CONGESTIVE HEPATOMEGALY (2750 GM)
CONGESTIVE SPLENOMEGALY (350 MG)
ACUTE OPIATE INTOXICATION ACUTE PASSIVE CONGESTION, ALL VISCERA
TOXICOLOGY (SEE SEPARATE REPORT)
BRAIN HEMORRHAGE (SEE SEPARATE REPORT)
CONCLUSION: (CAUSE OF DEATH)
DILATED AND HYPERTROPHIC CARDIOMYOPATHY
ACUTE OPIATE INTOXICATION
Nick Reese looked up. “So if you translated this into English, she died of a drug overdose of Ecstasy?”
“Yes.”
“Was she sexually assaulted?”
Helen Chuan hesitated. “Her hymen had been broken, and there were traces of semen and a little blood along her thighs.”
“So she was raped.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean—you don’t think so?” Reese frowned.
“There were no signs of violence.”
Detective Reese was looking at her, puzzled. “What are you saying?”
“I think that Jane Doe was a virgin. This was her first sexual experience.”
Detective Reese stood there, digesting the information. Someone had been able to persuade a virgin to go up to the Imperial Suite and have sex with him. It would have had to be someone she knew. Or someone famous or powerful.
The telephone rang. Helen Chuan picked it up. “Coroner’s office.” She listened a moment, then handed the phone to the detective. “It’s for you.”
Nick Reese took the phone. “Reese.” His face brightened. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Holbrook. Thanks for returning my call. It’s a class ring from your school with the initials P.Y. on it. Do you have a female student with those initials?…I’d appreciate it. Thank you. I’ll wait.”
He looked up at the coroner. “You’re sure she couldn’t have been raped?”
“I found no signs of violence. None.”
“Could she have been penetrated after she died?”
“I would say no.”
Mrs. Holbrook’s voice came back on the phone. “Detective Reese?”
“Yes.”
“According to our computer, we do have a female student with the initials P.Y. Her name is Pauline Young.”
“Could you describe her for me, Mrs. Holbrook?”
“Why, yes. Pauline is eighteen. She’s short and stocky, with dark hair…”
“I see.” Wrong girl. “And that’s the only one?”
“The only female, yes.”
He picked up on it. “You mean you have a male with those initials?
“Yes. Paul Yerby. He’s a senior. As a matter of fact, Paul happens to be in Washington, D.C., right now.”
Detective Reese’s heart began to beat faster. “He’s here?”
“Yes. A class of students from Denver High is on a trip to Washington to visit the White House and Congress and—”
“And they’re all in the city now?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you happen to know where they’re staying?”
“At the Hotel Lombardy. They gave us a group rate there. I talked with several of the other hotels, but they wouldn’t—”
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Holbrook. I appreciate it.”
Nick Reese replaced the receiver and turned to the coroner. “Let me know when the autopsy is complete, will you, Helen?”
“Of course. Good luck, Nick.”
He nodded. “I think I’ve just had it.”
The Hotel Lombardy is located on Pennsylvania Avenue, two blocks from Washington Circle and within walking distance of the White House, some monuments, and a subway station. Detective Reese walked into the old-fashioned lobby and approached the clerk behind the desk. “Do you have a Paul Yerby registered here?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t give out—”
Reese flashed his badge. “I’m in a big hurry, friend.”
“Yes, sir.” The clerk looked through his guest register. “There’s a Mr. Yerby in Room 315. Shall I—?”
“No, I’ll surprise him. Stay away from the phone.”