Chapter 17 #2
Vera surveyed the good-size room. Collins had made herself a very professional setup in her little bartered space.
A stainless steel exam table had been turned into a desk with a lamp and neat stacks of files and papers.
A shiny new four-drawer file cabinet stood next to it.
Two more stainless steel exam tables sat side by side on the other side of the floor space.
But the coups de grace were the shiny new refrigerated morgue drawers that housed the corpses she prepared for shipment to Nashville.
Bent passed Vera a pair of gloves. He’d already tugged on a pair himself. They joined the ME at the wall of nine drawers.
“Seth Parson.” Collins opened the first of the drawers in the middle row.
She unzipped the body bag and revealed the corpse within.
“He appears to have been in reasonably good health. The lab work isn’t back yet, but I can tell you that his blood alcohol level was somewhat high.
The issue with that is decomp can cause the production of ethanol, which affects the BAC level, so we can’t get a truly accurate count.
Other test results for drugs will be a few days, as you know.
The most accurate story will come with the autopsy report. ”
She paused, looked from Bent to Vera as if waiting for questions, then, when none were posed, turned her attention to the man in the bag. “You’re aware of the stab wounds and defensive injuries. But I also found a tattoo on his hip.”
Vera peered at the entwined set of hearts the ME pointed out. The initials, AT, were part of the tattoo. “Alicia Thurman.” She looked to Bent. “Thurman, that’s Wilton’s wife’s maiden name.”
Bent raised his eyebrows. “This would seem to confirm Erwin’s statement that Alicia knew the guy.”
“I took the liberty of calling Vanderbilt,” Collins said, drawing their attention.
“Alicia has a tattoo in this same location. But the one that matched this one has been overlaid with a larger single red heart. The nurse who checked for me sent images—which you’ll find with my report.
Careful examination of those images shows a tattoo just like this one beneath the heart.
The initials SP are there as well. It’s faint, but you can make out the pattern. ”
“More than acquaintances then.” Vera had to hand it to Collins. “Good catch.”
Collins smiled as if she hadn’t expected the compliment. “Thanks.”
Vera considered Seth Parson. She was still waiting on callbacks from the New Orleans Police Department and the one brother Eric had located an address and phone number for. If Vera could reach the brother, he might be able to shed some light on the relationship between Seth and Alicia.
“I confirmed that the knife found under Alicia Wilton has a blade the right width and length for the inflicted wounds on all three victims. It also fits the missing slot in the knife block found in the kitchen. Alicia sustained a laceration to the left breast from the knife. It appears the injury was made when it was pushed under her body.”
“Or when she fell and it was under her,” Bent countered.
Collins tilted her head one way then the other as if the point was debatable. “That’s possible, but more likely if she had fallen, the injury would have been deeper, perhaps lethal.”
Vera was no medical examiner, so she didn’t argue one way or the other.
Collins zipped up the bag and closed the drawer, then moved on to the next one. Vera and Bent stood on one side, Collins on the other. She lowered the zipper, revealing the still-unidentified female.
“She has the same tattoo on her hip.” Collins indicated the left hip, where the initials LP were displayed amid the two hearts.
“Larry Parson.” Vera looked to Bent. “He’s the brother Eric located for me.”
“We need to find this Larry Parson.” Bent withdrew his cell and prepared to send a text. “I’ll have Hastings follow up with the sheriff in his county of record.”
“I called,” Vera told him, “but I haven’t had a callback yet.”
“Who is Eric?” Collins looked to Vera for the answer.
“A colleague from my time in Memphis PD. Finding people and information is kind of his specialty.”
Collins lifted an eyebrow at the news. But it was the tilt of one corner of her mouth that warned she suspected there was far more to know about Eric.
None of her business.
Collins moved on to the wounds on the unidentified female’s body. The stab wounds were from the same knife or type and size knife as the others. As Vera and Bent had concluded, the one wound nicked the carotid artery.
“I did find some genetic material under the nail of this victim’s long finger on the left hand. I’ve already sent it forward for testing. That may give you something to help with identifying your killer once you’ve found him.”
Or her. Unless the genetic material was just part of the sex play that may have taken place during the party. That possibility couldn’t be ruled out, in Vera’s opinion. “Did you find scratch marks on any of the other victims?”
Collins smiled, recognizing where she was headed with the question. “Not unless it was on Wilton and it was dissolved given his extended period in the hot tub. As for this victim”—she indicated the female—“she has no other injuries or distinguishing marks other than what we’ve discussed.”
In other words, nothing new. Well, except the material under the nail and confirmation that she likely came to the Wilton residence with Seth Parson.
Unless his brother was loitering around town somewhere.
Which could toss another suspect into the killer pool.
Because one thing was reasonably certain: The dead folks in these three drawers had not done the killing.
Vera mentally added Larry Parson to her suspect list.
Lastly they surrounded Thomas Wilton’s stainless steel drawer. Now that he was out of the water and lying in that open body bag, the deteriorated condition of his corpse was painfully obvious.
“The time in the hot tub played havoc with his epidermis.”
No kidding. There were areas where the skin was red and swollen. Others where it was peeling and sloughing off. But it was one or more of the knife wounds that had killed him. The rest occurred postmortem. Lucky for him.
“He has two stab wounds in the region of the thoracic spine below a phoenix tattoo that extends across the width of the area. Numerous defensive wounds on both arms as well as significant damage to the right hand, where I suspect he grasped the knife blade. Two additional stab wounds to the upper torso near the sternum, one of which was fatal. A perfect strike between two ribs,” Collins explained.
“The blade no doubt slid directly into the heart with this one.” She indicated the puckered wound in his chest. “His blood alcohol level was low. I would guess he’d had perhaps one drink. ”
“I’m sure the hot tub took care of any potential genetic evidence that didn’t belong to Wilton.” Bent knew the answer just as Vera did, but it was his job to confirm.
“Absolutely. Your forensics team found nothing else near any of the victims that might help?”
“Nothing so far.”
Vera recognized that unless they got damned lucky, any hope of solving this puzzle anytime soon lay with the sole survivor . . . or with one of the names on Vera’s suspect list. The scene and the bodies just weren’t giving them a whole lot.
“By the way,” Collins said, drawing Vera’s attention back to her, although the woman was clearly addressing Bent, “that reporter, Nolan Baker, showed up at my house this morning. I’m sure he’s well aware there is nothing I can share with him.”
Oh he was aware, Vera mused, but that had never stopped Nolan before.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bent assured the ME.
“Well.” Collins zipped the bag over Wilton’s prune-puckered body. “I’ll get the bodies shipped out in the morning with a request to autopsy as soon as possible. We can hope that will happen.” She smiled up at Bent as she closed the drawer. “You have plans this evening, Bent?”
Vera turned to Bent, biting back a grin. “Yeah, Bent, do you have plans?”
“I think I’m preparing you dinner, Vee.” His expression was as innocent as a little boy’s. “After that knock on the head, you could use a good home-cooked meal.”
“I definitely could use some pampering.”
Collins looked to Vera. “What knock on the head?”
“No big deal.” Vera would have shaken her head, but she figured it would hurt like hell. “An intruder at my farm.”
“That sounds perfectly awful.” Collins looked from one to the other. “Well, have a nice evening, you two.”
Bent retrieved his hat, settled it into place atop that handsome head of his and grabbed the folder Collins had left for him. Vera removed her gloves, tossed them in the trash and put her hand on Bent’s arm.
“You have a nice evening yourself,” she called over her shoulder in pure-dee old meanness, as her mama would have said since she was the one walking out with Bent.
Sometimes it was necessary to mark your territory. The idea that Collins had just tested that boundary wasn’t lost on Vera.
When they were out the rear exit of the building and headed for his truck, Vera warned, “Told you the ME had her sights set on you.”
Bent opened the passenger side door. “And I told you, she’s wasting her time.”
Vera decided she was going to need a great deal of pampering tonight.