Best Laid Plans(18)

“Not exactly. There were no signs of bruising around his nose and mouth, and no fibers in his mouth, nose, or throat.”

“Asphyxiation is the lack of oxygen,” Lucy said. “If he wasn’t strangled, drowned, or physically suffocated, it would have to be chemical or natural, like an allergy.”

“Hence, my need for toxicology before I can make an official determination. But I have some facts that may help in your investigation. First, the deceased was already dead when his pants were removed. He’d voided his bladder when he died.”

“I thought that only happened in a violent death,” Barry said.

Julie shook her head. “It can happen to anyone at time of death, particularly if their bladder was full. Blood stops circulating, lungs stop working, muscles relax, et cetera. It really depends on a variety of factors, but it’s not uncommon.

“Second, the victim did not have sex near the time of death. There was no semen in the urethra or ducts—which means he wasn’t aroused. No pre-cum in his pants, nothing to indicate sexual excitement.”

“Some sexual predators can’t ejaculate,” Lucy said. “I worked a case in D.C. where a rapist brutalized his victims with foreign objects because he couldn’t orgasm.”

“It happens, but in this case I doubt it—all his equipment is there and appears to be in working order, but some drugs can have an impact on sexual performance, for better or worse,” Julie said. “For my next fact, I found saliva on his penis. A quick test determined that it was female, but I’ve asked for a complete DNA analysis.”

“How old was the saliva?” Lucy asked.

Julie snapped her fingers. “Smart girl! There was no saliva or female DNA in his underwear. Nada. Our forensic lab examined the underwear extremely meticulously—at my request—using all the tools at our disposal. So I would testify under oath that the saliva wasn’t present until after his pants were pulled down.”

“Which means that he was dead.”

Julie grinned. “Yep.”

“That’s disgusting,” Barry said.

Lucy had investigated worse. Nothing about human nature surprised her anymore.

“And?” she asked Julie.

“You think there’s more?”

“You could have told Barry all of that over the phone. Which means you want to show us something.”

“You’re so right. I could just let you read the report, but I think in a sensitive case like this, you need to see what I saw.” Julie stood and motioned for them to follow.

“The crime techs confirmed that there was vodka on his shirt and neck, but it’s clear someone poured it into his mouth,” Julie said. “We have a down-and-dirty blood alcohol test, and his BAC was zero. His stomach contents are consistent with having had a meal at approximately six thirty this evening. We’re running the contents for common poisons, but he had no external symptoms of natural toxins, such as anaphylactic shock that might occur with a shellfish or peanut allergy. I have his medical records, and he has no known allergies.”

They were at the end of the hall and Julie led them into the locker room. “Booties and gloves. Can’t have contamination.”

Both Lucy and Barry put on the gear Julie handed them, and she led them across the hall to one of the autopsy bays.

One autopsy was currently being performed by three other pathologists. Julie nodded to them as they passed, then on the far side of the room she pulled back a plastic sheet that hung from the ceiling to reveal the body of Harper Worthington laid out on a steel autopsy table. His chest had already been sewn back together.

“I’ve already talked to the crime techs about this, and they’re going to come back with a plausible theory after they play with their computers. Because I absolutely know what this is, I just can’t picture how it happened.”

Julie turned on the bright overhead light. It made Worthington look even more pale, but every imperfection was visible. Julie tilted his head a bit and Lucy peered at a small red mark that was halfway between the side and the back of his neck.

“It looks like a puncture mark. A needle, perhaps.”

“Looks like. Cops.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it looks like a needle mark because it is a needle mark.”

Barry asked, “What was he injected with?”

“Don’t know yet. I took tissue and blood samples and the lab knows this is a priority, but you’re going to have to give us a day or two. I know it’s nothing common—I can test for most narcotics right here. It would have to be fast acting, because there was no sign of a struggle. No defensive wounds. No skin under his nails. He didn’t fall to his knees or hit his head. I can’t picture how someone could get close enough to inject him and he didn’t at least try to get away. But you saw the room—it was tidy.”

Lucy could picture a couple different scenarios, but one seemed the most plausible. She said, “That lends credence to the fact that a prostitute was in the room and Worthington intended to have sex with her. Maybe they were kissing and the girl puts the needle into his neck. He pushes her away, but can’t move. Collapses onto the bed. That would have to be an extremely fast-acting drug.”

She walked around the table, collecting her thoughts. “But why? What’s the motive? Did she kill him for kicks?”