Murder Theory by Andrew Mayne

Author:Andrew Mayne [Mayne, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503904347
Published: 2019-02-04T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

BASEMENT

Ned Rayner is waiting at the front gate of his compound when I pull up. A large fence on rollers stands between us as he appears to be deciding whether or not to unlock it and let me drive my rented cargo van inside.

Set back in the woods just outside Raleigh, North Carolina, the house is a large one-story structure that resembles a pillbox more than a family home. A driveway off to the side leads to a basement garage. Two industrial air conditioners sit on cement pads next to the house. A white van with rusted paint is parked next to a brand-new Toyota Tacoma and a sporty BMW.

Business is good for Rayner, whose business falls into a gray area of legality. Given the suspicious glances he’s giving me, even after I gave him a plausible alibi, I’m certain that some of what he does is decidedly not legal.

Ned Rayner sells human body parts. Or to put it in precise legal terms, he provides services to entities looking to obtain human tissue. Selling human body parts is illegal, but it’s perfectly fine to charge for preparation, transportation, or any other fee you can come up with that basically amounts to charging for the donated tissue.

The problem arises when body parts are collected from funeral homes and hospitals without the donor’s or family’s permission. This happens more frequently than people realize. Femurs and other bones are removed from the deceased and replaced with plastic pipe so the body doesn’t bend like Gumby when there’s a viewing. Other tissue, like ligaments and veins, can be taken without anyone being the wiser.

Rayner, a tall, bald, imposing man in his late forties, looks me over, unlocks the gate, then tells me to park next to his truck.

“Tendons? Right?” he asks.

“Yep.”

He presses a button on his key chain, and the garage door rolls up, revealing a Dodge Hellcat and a large workshop. A large refrigerator stands at the far end next to a sink.

Rayner opens the refrigerator, revealing an almost empty interior. A foam cooler sits on the middle shelf.

“This is less than two days old. I’ve got calf and thigh from three cadavers. How many do you want?”

“All of it,” I reply.

Over the phone, I told Rayner I was a broker working for a biotech start-up doing research on skeletal muscles.

“All of it?” He thinks for a moment. “That will be four thousand dollars.”

I pull out my phone. “Venmo? PayPal? Bitcoin?”

“Venmo to BDT Pharma Services.”

I send the money to him, and his phone buzzes.

He checks the screen and nods. “That was easy.”

“My clients are desperate,” I say. “They’re trying to beat a competitor to some patent I don’t understand.”

I watch Rayner’s face as he thinks this over. He realizes that I must have just made a much larger profit than he did. Good. I want the greedy part of his brain to overwhelm reason.

I check my phone as it buzzes from a timed call. “I gotta run. Gotta fly to Arizona to get some brain tissue.

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