The Death Box(57)

“If she calls, how should I respond?”

“She’s been heavily conditioned to fear the police. That’s all I can tell you. You’ll have to be guided by intuition.”

I watched an empty semi-tractor pull from the Redi-flow lot and angle our way, engine roaring. Didn’t the damn things have mufflers? “Thanks for the heads-up,” I yelled over the din. “It goes without saying that—”

“Yes. If she calls me again, I will let you know.”

The truck pulled by and rumbled past the building and down a dirt road cutting through the treeline. I dialed Morningstar.

“We’re finished,” she said. “Two more bodies pulled from the column.”

“Congratulations.”

“You in the area, Ryder? I think you’ll be interested by what we found.”





30





“I have seen such a woman not two hours ago. She wore sunglasses, a scarf, and her dress was a blue like the sky.”

“Where did you behold this woman, friend?”

“There was talk of money, no?”

“I can’t yet know if this is the woman we seek. Here is a good faith offer, one hundred dollars. There’s much more to come should your help result in finding this woman. She has … problems. Her family wants her to get assistance.”

“Sad. She looked in good health, a pretty one, I think.”

“Where did you see her?”

“Do you know the ice-cream store near the cemetery? With the cell phones – not so many places have phone booths. There is one still there, on the outside of the store. She was on the phone. When her call was done she stepped into the alley and ran in the direction of the cemetery.”

“Where were you that you could see her?”

“In the store, eating ice cream.”

“Now you can get a hundred dollars’ worth of ice cream. Don’t eat it too fast, amigo, you’ll get a headache. Pay the man, Chaku.”

When we arrived at the site the only vehicles were from the med and forensics labs. The air was as still as stone, and nearly as heavy, a wave of humidity adding to the late summer heat and we booked for the cool atmosphere of the tent.

My first glance went to the pit. Empty, the column now borne in hundreds of evidence bags. Morningstar stood beside one of the tables on the upper level, conferring with a tech. I waved as we approached. “Good morning, Doctor, I—”

She snapped her fingers and the tech filled them with several photos. “This is the head of John Doe Middle Stratum. You’ll note that the neck flesh is ossified by the concrete, but you can’t hide a slash like that. The victim was slit ear to ear. It also seems the hands were severed on this victim. They’re on their way to the lab. A severed hand means thievery in the Muslim world, right?”

“Biblical, too, maybe, given the Old Testament. Any ID on the body?”

“None. But the clothing was somewhat intact. He wore a suit, silk. We have a label from the jacket, an expensive Italian make. We have shoes as well, also Italian and pricey.”

“What was that guy doing underneath a cargo of dirt-poor Hondurans?” I mused.

“Slumming?” Gershwin ventured.

“Now for JDBS, our bottom victim,” Morningside said. “The first body dumped in the pit and more ossified than the Hondurans. I figure our bottom John Doe was down there for a couple years, so maybe a year before the others.” The tech anticipated the fingersnap by getting there first, handing the doc a dark plastic bag, large. “Glove up, Ryder,” she said and I resisted dropping my mouth in awe: Morningstar was letting me handle evidence. I snapped the latex in place and the doc reached into the bag and handed me its contents.

“A skull,” I said unnecessarily, turning it in my hands and noting the lower mandible was missing. “Or what’s left of one.”

“Wait. More to come.”

The tech took the skull from my hands as Morningstar opened her hand and revealed an object resembling a petrified thumb until I looked closer.

“Is this what I think it is?” I asked, grimacing.

“Yep. A penis.”

“It fell off the body?”

“We removed it from the oral cavity of the skull. Go ahead, take a look. It won’t bite.”

I lifted the severed member. I had held but one penis before and felt uncomfortable holding this one, even though it seemed more statue than human. “The preservation is rather remarkable,” Morningstar said. “Don’t you think?”

The urethra seemed to stare at me and I looked away.

“I guess.”

“Check the base. There’s no tearing of the flesh nor internal tissue. Probably removed by a razor-sharp knife. Zip … and it was gone.”