Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(52)
Sergio introduced the nun who closed the gates as Sister Agnes. She walked quickly up the stone path, smiling and talking to Sergio as if he were an old friend. She spoke in Spanish, her voice pleasant. After several minutes of friendly chatter the nun pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the wooden door closest to them. She stepped back and allowed Josie and Teresa to enter first. A window on the opposite wall let in filtered light through a gauze curtain. Shade trees on the opposite side of the room kept the breeze coming through the window warm but comfortable. A twin-size bed was pushed up lengthwise to the left side of the door and another to the right. On either side of the wall was an armoire and a small washbasin, mirror, and shelf for toiletries. The floor was ancient wood plank, and waxed to a high shine. The walls were stone, like the outside of the building, and helped keep the temperature comfortable without air-conditioning.
Josie smiled and nodded at the nun to show she was pleased with the room, then turned to face Sergio. “Can you ask how much I owe for the room?”
“The rooms are for friends of the church. No cost. If you would like to make a donation, that is up to you.”
After Sergio and the nun left, Josie sat on one bed and Teresa sat on the other, facing each other.
“Now what?”
Josie smiled. “Beats me.”
“I guess we can’t take a walk?” Teresa asked.
“Not outside these walls. I’m not very well liked here by some pretty bad people.”
“Mom told me.” Teresa looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you had to come bail me out. I never meant to cause all this trouble for you.”
“Just tell that to your mom tomorrow, and we’ll call it even.”
*
Mitchell Cowan, Arroyo County coroner, stood at the autopsy table and stared at the black and green flesh in front of him, frustrated and angry at his inability to put all of the pieces together. He had originally declared the time of death at forty-eight hours, possibly longer, but over the past several hours he had changed his mind, placing the time of death closer to thirty hours. Otto had called as he was getting ready to go home that evening to inform Cowan that they had confirmed the man’s identity, and the fact that he was part of the cleanup crew at the closed nuclear weapons plant. Cowan had originally estimated the man’s age to be in his sixties. Otto had said the man’s work records put him at forty-four. Something had caused the man’s decomposition to increase at a faster rate than normal.
After four hours spent reexamining the body, and reformulating his theories, he summoned Otto to his office at almost eight o’clock that night. Otto knocked, entered the lab, and was then directed to wash and suit up before Cowan would talk with him.
Garbed in a blue gown, latex gloves, and a blue mask and cap, Otto approached the body. Cowan noted that his gaze rested on the dead man’s feet, the only part covered by a cloth. Cowan retrieved the black plastic sheet that lay under the autopsy table and covered the rest of the body in deference to Otto.
“We have some issues,” Cowan said. “Time of death has proven elusive.”
Otto asked, “What about the blowflies? I thought they identified time of death.”
Cowan nodded. “With the wet nature of the sores on the body, it wouldn’t surprise me if the blowflies were on him within an hour of death. The blowfly eggs were hatching into larvae when Josie found the body. It usually takes time for the body to decompose, but he was decomposing before he was dead.”
Otto winced at the thought.
“Judging by the decomposition of his body, the green and black marbling of his skin, and the insect larvae, I’m going to change my original estimate. At this point, I think he was killed Saturday night. Gauging the lividity, his body was transported several hours later and deposited in the desert late Saturday night, early Sunday morning.”
Otto nodded in appreciation. “Nice work, Cowan.”
Cowan frowned. “It’s not so easy. This whole case is troubling me.”
“How so?”
“After you called, first thing I did was go back to the internal organs. This wasn’t the body of a forty-year-old man. I found the intestinal track highly putrefied. The intestinal tract is always first to disintegrate, especially in high heat circumstances, but his entire GI tract was further decomposed than it should have been. The rest of his organs were more in line with the twenty-four-to-thirty-six-hour theory.”
“Can you translate that?”
“Something ate up his arms, and then ate up his digestive tract.”
Otto blew air out in frustration. “We’re all thinking radiation. The guy worked at the Feed Plant. Is that where you’re headed with this?”
Cowan placed his hand on the black plastic sheet covering the body, and then paused. “I’m putting him away for the night. Turn your head if you want.”
Otto walked over to the laundry tub and began taking his mask and gown off.
Cowan began preparing the body for the cooler as he talked. “That’s the angle that makes the most sense. But why his GI tract? If he’d had a massive dose of radiation and chemo he could have developed sores. Some cancer victims develop open wounds and they fester over a year before the body’s immune system can heal them. Conceivably, radiation or chemo could have caused the sores on his arms and head. But I saw no evidence of cancer.”