Bones in Her Pocket: A Tempe Brennan E-Short by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2013-07-16T05:00:00+00:00

AN HOUR LATER I was gloved and staring at the bones. The hyoid fracture pointed to strangulation as cause of death. After spotting it, I’d been distracted by the owl pellets. Now I wanted more.

One by one, I examined the neck bones, first visually, then under the scope.

C-1 and C-2 were intact. No nicks or gouges, no breaks, no jamming of the articular surfaces. C-3 told a different tale.

Edith’s third cervical vertebra showed compression on its anterior-superior rim, and a hairline fracture where the right transverse process met the body. Good. But not what froze my breath in my throat.

Embedded in the fracture was a single red filament. Using tweezers, I teased the thing free and placed it in a small plastic vial.

Hot damn. Call Slidell?

Not yet.

Back to the vertebrae.

C-4 through C-6 showed no signs of trauma.

The pattern made sense. In life, the hyoid lies directly anterior to C-3. The sparing of all vertebrae save that one suggested strangulation with a narrow ligature.

Then I looked at the last cervical and first thoracic vertebrae. Both had damage to their spinous processes, the projections visible as knobs running down the back of a living person. Both processes were fractured and displaced inferiorly.

I closed my eyes. Visualized the ligature looping Edith’s throat. The movement of her head. Her torso.

My eyes flew open. Shot to the vial.

I hurried to phone Slidell.

“You may have been right about Olsen,” I said when he picked up.

“How much did that hurt to admit?”

“The other Olsen.”

Pause. “The wife?”

I explained what I’d observed in the bones. In the simplest terms possible.

“And?”

“Edith was strangled, probably from behind. The fact that trauma is limited to C-3 tells us the ligature was narrow, something like a rope or cord.”

“But you’re sayin’ other parts of her back were messed up.”

“Exactly. If her killer was of equal or greater height the damage would run roughly horizontal, front to back.” I was greatly oversimplifying. “The presence of damage lower down on her back, and the nature of those injuries, suggest her upper body was yanked backward and downward. Hard.”

No response.

“Edith was how tall?” I asked.

I heard paper rustle. “Driver’s license says five-seven.” Sharp intake of breath. “We’re looking for someone short.”

“Blount and Olsen are both six-footers.”

Slidell did that thing he does in his throat.

“There’s more. I found a red fiber embedded in the fracture on C-3. I’m sending it over to the lab, but I’m almost certain it’s nylon.”

Silence hummed for a moment.

“Nylon is a common component in dog leashes,” I said.

This clue he got.

“Sweetie’s shepherd was on a leash.”

“A red one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A leash makes an excellent ligature.” It didn’t need saying.

“I don’t know. The woman weighs, what? Four ounces?”

“Eleven pounds of pressure applied to both carotids for ten seconds puts a person out cold. Rage, adrenaline, the element of surprise. It’s a lethal combination.”

“A woman scorned, eh?”

I heard a catch in Slidell’s breathing, knew something was coming.

“Blount’s in the wind.”

I bit back “I told you so.” “I thought you had eyes on him.”

“The tail car lost him somewhere off Sample Road.

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