Whispers of the Dead (8 page)

I managed not to smile. 'I expect she'll be here for a while yet,
anyway'
'Right.'
He nodded, furiously, burying his head in his work. His shyness
was painful to see. I'd no idea if Summer would welcome his
attention, but I hoped he found the courage to find out.
We were about to lift off the aluminium lid from the container
when Tom returned. His expression was sour.
'Don't bother. Dan doesn't want us to touch the body for the time
being. Apparently Alex Irving wants to look at it in situ!
'What for?' I could understand why the profiler had wanted to
view the first victim's body in the cabin, but this one was laid out in
a coffin. I couldn't see what he hoped to learn from it that he
couldn't get from photographs.
'Who knows?' Frustrated, Tom blew out a breath. 'Hicks and
Irving in one morning. Lord, this is shaping up to be one hell of a
day. And you didn't hear me say that, Kyle.'
The morgue assistant smiled. 'No, sir. Anything else I can do?'
'Not right now. I'll give you a call when Irving gets here. I'm
assured he won't be long.'
But we should have known that Irving wasn't the type to worry
over keeping anyone waiting. Half an hour, then an hour, went by,
and still he hadn't graced us with his presence. Tom and I occupied
ourselves in rinsing and drying the remains from the cabin that had
been left in detergent overnight. It was nearly two hours before the
profiler sauntered into the autopsy suite without knocking. He was
wearing an expensive suede jacket over a plain black shirt, his beard
little more than a dark shading on the well-fleshed cheeks and
softening jaw line.
A girl was with him, pretty and no older than nineteen or twenty.
She hung close behind him, as though for protection.
He bestowed an insincere smile upon us. 'Dr Lieberman, Dr . . .'
He made do with a vague nod in my direction. T expect Dan
Gardner told you I was coming.'
Tom didn't return the smile. 'Yes, he did. He also said you'd be
here soon.'
Irving raised his hands in mock surrender, giving what I imagine
he thought was a disarming grin. 'Mea culpa. I was about to prerecord
a TV interview when Gardner phoned, and it ran late. You
know how these things are.'
Tom's face said he knew very well. He looked pointedly at the
girl. 'And this is. . . ?'
Irving put a proprietorial hand on the girl's shoulder. 'This is, ah,
Stacie. One of my students. She's writing a dissertation on my work.'
'That must be fascinating,'Tom said.'But I'm afraid she'll have to
wait outside.'
The profiler waved a hand, airily dismissing the notion. 'That's
OK. I've warned her what to expect.'
'Even so, I'll have to insist.'
The smile became set as Irving locked gazes with Tom. 'I told her
she could come with me.'
'Then you shouldn't have. This is a morgue, not a lecture theatre.
I'm sorry,'Tom added more gently to the girl.
Irving stared at him for a moment, then gave the girl a regretful
smile. 'Looks like I've been overruled, Stacie.You'll have to wait back
at the car.'
She hurried out, head bowed with embarrassment. I felt sorry for
her, but Irving should have known better than to bring her without
first asking Tom. The profiler's smile vanished as soon as the door had
closed behind her.
'She's one of my best students. If I'd thought she might embarrass
me I wouldn't have brought her along.'
'I'm sure you wouldn't, but that wasn't your decision to make.'
Tom's tone ended the discussion. 'David, would you mind bringing
Kyle to the radiology suite, please? I'll show Dr Irving where the
changing room is.'
'That won't be necessary. I've no intention of touching anything.'
The profiler's manner had ice on it now.
'Maybe not, but we're pernickety about things like that. Besides,
I'd hate you to get your jacket stained.'
Irving glanced down at his expensive suede jacket. 'Oh. Well,
perhaps you're right.'
Tom gave me a quick smile as I went out. By the time I'd found
Kyle he and Irving were already in the radiography room, standing
in silence on opposite sides of the aluminium box containing the
casket.
Irving had put on a lab coat over his clothes. He wore a pained
expression, massaging either side of his nose with a gloved thumb
and forefinger as Kyle and I began to lift the container's lid.
'I hope this won't take long. I have rhinitis and the air conditioning
makes my sinuses -- God!'
He hastily stepped back, cupping his hand over his nose as the lid
came off and released the stench from inside. But to his credit he
recovered quickly, lowering his hand and moving forward again as
we opened the actual casket.
'Is, ah, is this normal?'
'The condition of the body, you mean?'Tom shrugged. 'Depends
what you mean by normal. The decomp is in keeping with an
interred corpse. Just not one that's only been buried six months.'
'I presume you have an explanation?'
'Not yet.'
Irving contrived to look surprised.'So we've got two bodies, both
mysteriously more decomposed than they should be. A pattern of
sorts there, I think. And I understand this isn't the grave's rightful
ownerr
'That's how it looks.This is a black male. Willis Dexter was white.'
'Someone at the funeral home taking colour blindness to new
heights, perhaps,' Irving murmured. He motioned at the filthy cotton
sheet that covered everything except the corpse's head. 'Can
you . . . ?'
'Just a moment. David, would you mind getting a few shots?'
Using Tom's camera, I took photographs of the body, then Tom
nodded for Kyle to remove the sheet. The morgue assistant carefully
took hold of the makeshift shroud. The fluids released by
decomposition had made it adhere to the body, so that it came free
only reluctantly. When he saw what was underneath he stopped,
looking uncertainly at Tom.
The corpse was naked.
'Oh, definitely a pattern here,' Irving said, sounding amused.
Tom nodded to Kyle. 'Carry on.'
The assistant pulled aside the rest of the sheet. Irving stroked his
beard as he considered the body. It seemed a deliberate affectation to
me, but perhaps I was biased.
'Well, leaving aside the, ah, unclothed aspect for the moment, a few
things are immediately obvious,' he asserted. 'The body's been carefully
arranged. Hands folded on the chest in the conventional
manner, legs straightened as though this was an ordinary burial.
Which it patently wasn't. But the body has been treated with evident
respect, which is a clear departure from the first victim. Still, all goes
to make life more interesting, doesn't it?'
Not theirs. I could see that Irving's attitude irked Tom as well.'The
body we found in the cabin wasn't the first victim,' he said.
'I'm sorry?'
'Assuming that this individual was murdered, which we can't say
for sure until we know the cause of death, then he's been dead a lot
longer than the man we found yesterday,' Tom said. 'Whoever this
was, he died first.'
'I stand corrected,' Irving said, his smile glassy. 'But that only
supports my theory. There's a definite progression. And if this Dexter
character faked his own death six months ago, as looks likely, then
that's hugely symbolic. I thought at first that the killer might be in
denial about his sexuality, sublimating his suppressed sexual urges
into violence. But this puts a different slant on things.The first victim was covered in a shroud and buried -- hidden away in shame, almost.
Now, six months later, the body in the cabin is left on display for the
world to see. It's shouting, "Look at me! Look what I've done!"
Having "buried" his old self the killer's now coming out of the
closet, if you like. And given such a huge shift in the way he treated
these two victims, I wouldn't be surprised if there are some interim
ones we don't know about.'

He sounded quite excited at the prospect.

'So you still think these are gay killings,'Tom said.

'Almost certainly. This all but confirms it.'

'You seem very confident.' I hadn't meant to get involved, but
Irving's manner set my teeth on edge.

'We've got two naked corpses, both male.That does seem to point
that way, wouldn't you say?'

'Bodies are sometimes transported nude from the morgue. If there
was no family to provide clothes then that's how they'd be buried.'

'So this second naked male body is just coincidence? Interesting
theory.' He favoured me with a patronizing smile. 'Perhaps you'd also
like to explain why the fingerprint Dexter left on the film canister
was smeared with baby oil?'

The surprise I felt was mirrored on Tom's face. Irving feigned
dismay.

'Oh, I'm sorry, hadn't Gardner mentioned that? No reason why he
should, I suppose. But unless the killer has a penchant for moisturizing,
there's only one reason I can think of why he was using baby oil
at the cabin.'

He let that hang, making sure the barb was sunk before going on.

'In any event, a sexual motivation would also explain the different
racial profiles of the victims - the crucial common denominator isn't
their skin colour, it's the fact that they're men. No, we're definitely
dealing with a sexual predator here, and given the conspicuous
absence of this Willis Dexter from his own grave, I'd say he's a pretty
likely candidate.'

'From what Dan said, I don't think Dexter had a criminal record
or any history of violence,'Tom said.

Irving allowed himself a smug smile. 'The really clever predators

I
never do. They keep themselves concealed, often as respectable
members of society, until they either slip up or deliberately reveal
themselves. Pathological narcissism isn't an uncommon trait amongst
serial killers. They tire of hiding their light under a bushel and decide
to flex their muscles in public, as it were. Fortunately, most of them
eventually trip themselves up with their own vanity. Like this.'
Irving gestured theatrically at the corpse in the casket. By now
he'd adopted an almost lecturing tone, as though Tom and I were a
pair of not especially bright undergraduates.
'Given the logistics involved, Dexter couldn't have done this without
at the vf ry least the help of someone at the funeral home,' he
went on confidently. 'Either Dexter worked there himself - which
given his background as a mechanic or whatever is unlikely -- or he
has an accomplice. A lover, maybe. It's possible they might even be
working as a team; one dominant and one submissive. Now that
really would be interesting.'
'Fascinating,'Tom murmured.
Irving gave him a sharp look, as though only now suspecting that
his pearls were being wasted on swine. But we were deprived of
whatever other insights he might have shared with us by Summer's
entrance.
She came into the radiography room but stopped when she saw us
standing around the casket. 'Oh! Sorry, shall I wait outside?'
'No need to on my account,' Irving said, favouring her with a
broad smile. 'Although I'll defer to Dr Lieberman, of course. He has
rather strong views on sheltering students from the facts of life.'
Tom ignored the jibe. 'Summer's one of my graduate students.
She's helping us out.'
'Of course.' Irving's smile broadened as he eyed the studs and rings
decorating Summer's face. 'You know, I've always been fascinated by
body art. I once considered a tattoo myself, but such things are
frowned upon in my line of work. But I love the paganistic aspect of
piercings, that whole concept of the modern primitive.
So refreshing to find that sort of individualism in this day and age.'
Summer's face bloomed red, but with pleasure rather than
embarrassment. 'Thank you.'
'No need to thank me! Irving's charm was on full wattage. 'I have
one or two textbooks on primitive body art you might find interesting.
Perhaps--'
'If that's all, Professor Irving, we need to make a start here,' Tom
interrupted.
Annoyance flickered behind Irving's smile for a moment. 'Of
course. Nice meeting you, Miss . . .'
'Summer.'
Irving showed his teeth again. 'My favourite season.'
Peeling off his gloves, he glanced round for somewhere to put
them. Failing to find anywhere suitable, he held them out for Kyle
to take. The young morgue assistant looked startled, but meekly
accepted them.
With a last smile at Summer, Irving went out. There was a hush
after the door closed behind him. Summer's face was dimpled in a
smile, cheeks blushed crimson beneath the bleached blond hair.
Kyle looked crestfallen, the profiler's gloves still dangling from his
hand.
Tom cleared his throat. 'So where were we . . . ?'
While I took more photographs of the uncovered remains, he
went out to call Gardner. A forensic team would need to examine the
casket, but usually that wouldn't happen till after we'd removed
the body. The fact that it was naked probably wouldn't alter anything,
but I didn't blame Tom for checking with the TBI agent first.
Kyle lingered in the radiography suite, even though there was no
real reason for him to be there any more. But seeing the way he
looked at Summer I hadn't the heart to tell him he wasn't needed.
His expression put me in mind of a kicked puppy.
Tom wasn't long. He came back, his manner brisk. 'Dan says to go
ahead. Let's get the body out.'
I started towards the container, but Tom stopped me. 'Kyle, would
you mind helping Summer?'
The?' The assistant's face turned crimson. He shot a quick glance
towards her. 'Oh, uh, sure. No problem.'
Tom gave me a wink as Kyle went to join Summer by the
aluminium container.
'Shouldn't you have a bow and arrow?' I murmured, as they
prepared to lift the body.
'Sometimes you have to help these things along.' His smile faded.
'Dan's keen to get things moving. Normally I'd leave these remains
till I'd finished working on the ones from the cabin, but as things
stand--'
There was a sudden exclamation. We looked over to see Kyle
straightening beside the casket, staring at one of his gloved hands.
'What's wrong?'Tom asked, going over.
'Something pricked me. When I touched the body'
'Has it broken the skin?'
'I'm not sure . . .'
'Here, let me see,' I said.
The gloves were heavy duty rubber gauntlets that reached almost
to the elbow. Kyle's was slimed with fluids from the decomposing
body, but the jagged hole on its palm was clearly visible.
'It's fine, really,' Kyle said.
I took no notice as I pulled off his thick glove. Kyle's hand was
wrinkled and pale from being in the rubber. In the centre of his palm
was a dark smear of blood.
'Let's get it under the tap. Is there a first aid kit?' I asked.