Chapter 2: The Both of Them
I sat at the usual window side booth at Laney's with my notes spread in an arc around the menu printed on the paper place mat. Laney herself sat across from me with her notepad poised to take my order. I cast my eyes past the list of salads once more before looking up at her.
"I can't do it, Laney; I knew this diet wouldn't work." I grinned. "I'll have the special without the meat."
"That's my girl," she said heartily, starting to shift herself off the bench seat. "You don't need a diet, anyway. You want to be another one of those skinny girls in the heels I see here every day? Besides, you're already not eating meat. I don't know how you stay alive."
"Come on now, Laney. I've got enough stored up for a few lean winters." I scoffed, giving my stomach a pat. She laughed as she turned back toward the lunch counter to hand my order to the cook. Laney's diner occupied the corner of the block where I worked. My lab was up one floor from the M.E.'s lab and down one from the ballistics offices. Most lunch hours Laney's was full of people talking about different aspects of murders. Laney took it in stride; the money might've had something to do with it. I pulled my sheaf of notes back together and reviewed my results for my meeting with McLynn.
Perhaps I should've called them my meager results. Most of what I knew about the bones came from the vertebrae and the layers of potting soil. I knew we had two bodies' worth of bones. I'd found almost no tool marks on the surfaces of any of the bones, and most of the breaks were postmortem. I'd found one atlas—vertebra that is—tangled into the root ball of one of the ficus trees. I'd found the other atlas in the older layer of soil but not as entangled in the roots. So we had two separate murders, it seemed. Well. We had two separate burial times for the bones of two bodies.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Connell," McLynn said as she came down the aisle toward my table. She too had a file of papers and a perplexed look on her face. She set the file down and removed her suit jacket before sliding into the booth. "Oh she's got red beans and rice on today. One of us must be living right."
"I bet it's you," I said, pushing my notes to one side. Laney appeared at the head of the table and took McLynn's order. I watched people walk past the window while they chatted. Laney walked off to put in McLynn's order, and I turned back to the table. "You testified today?"
"Yes, so help me." McLynn sighed, carefully unfolding her napkin around her utensils and arranging them straight atop it. "That little DA can kiss my grits." Laney reappeared with a full cup of coffee, which she put in front of McLynn. "Thank you, honey."
"He is an irritating little man, isn't he?" I snorted. "He takes up so much time in cross."
"I know it," McLynn agreed. "He once made me so late to pick up my daughter I had to call her school. Burnt me up."
"Well, while we're on the topic of irritating men…" I began.
"What, you dating another one?" McLynn said, cutting her eyes over to me.
"No," I rolled my eyes. "I'm talking about DuPret."
"Tell me you're not dating that idiot." McLynn gave me a stern look.
"Of course not," I snorted. "He'd leave stains on the carpet."
"And he's always howling about any little thing," she said, laughing heartily.
"But really, I need to know what you think of the office case." I leaned forward over the table. "I've hit a wall on a few things."
"All right," McLynn said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. "I've got to say, I don't know what on earth happened to the owner of this hand."
"I've hardly got anything either," I said, shoving my summary of results across the table to her. She pushed her summary toward me and we read in silence. She'd barely come up with anything more than she'd told me she had last night. She'd put the fingerprints in for analysis and sent off some DNA, but she had what I had. Not much.
"Hey McLynn?" I muttered. She looked up at me. "Did you get a sample of the soil from the hand?"
"Mmhm." She muttered, wrinkling her eyebrows. "You're thinking about the date match?"
"Yeah." I flipped a page in her file to look at her description of the trauma to the hand. "There's no exact date for the change in soil yet, but if we find one…"
"It could be vital information for the trial. I get you." She scratched a note to herself on the edge of the paper placemat and shoved it into her case file. "You're taking soil from all the bones, right?"
"Yeah," I confirmed quietly, distracted by the description of the breaks in the radius and ulna attached to the hand. "I think you're right about a crushing injury."
"Bless his heart." She said. We paused to shuffle our files out of the way when Laney came with the food. We spent the rest of the meal chatting, really, since neither of us had anything truly useful. But something was bothering me. We were both down to our last bites before I identified it and put it into words.
"McLynn, do you know a guy named Karne? He said he was a detective. He was at the scene last night." McLynn looked at me, then out the window. Her eyes lost focus for a moment as she remembered.
"What's he look like? Well. Wait, why do you ask?"
"There was a man at the scene last night; he nearly got into it with DuPret. He said his name was Karne, and that he was a detective." I said. "I think he's not police from the way DuPret was trying to run him off. He was the one who mentioned the soil first."
"You're telling me you met some strange man at a scene of a suspected homicide who gave you pertinent information? Honey, you know that's classic psychopathic…" McLynn sat forward, warming to her theme. I put up a hand.
"I know, I know. Psychopath inserts himself into the investigation of his crimes—very classic. But that's not my gut feeling." I paused, realizing I sounded like a fool. "DuPret set on him like he'd had to defend his turf before—almost like Karne was a private investigator."
"Girl, that does not preclude the possibility that he's a psychopath." McLynn pointed her fork at me. "Now you tell me why you're asking."
"Just because I have the feeling I should've been worried about him being there, but I wasn't." I ran a fingertip around the rim of my water glass. "I know that might just mean he's good."
"Look him up, will you? It'd be a stupid way to get hurt, Connell." McLynn gave me the look I'd have given anyone who'd said the same thing to me. Of course it was foolish to trust this guy on gut feelings alone. McLynn got up to head to the office a few moments later. I hung back and dialed Bridget at the office.
"Bridget, I need some information—whatever you can get—on Oliver Karne." I set to work gathering my notes while she typed in a search.
"With a 'K' maybe?" She asked. I assumed she was choosing from phonetic matches in our database. I made a noise of agreement. "Amy?" Bridget's voice changed pitch a little, but I couldn't tell what that meant.
"What'd you find?"
"He calls himself a consulting detective." She paused, and I could hear a few mouse clicks. "This guy's famous. Really famous."
"What do you mean?"
"In the files—you know, the interdepartmental notes section in the database?" I made another agreeing noise. "Every time his name comes up—and that's a lot, really a lot—it says something about how the department needs to hire him. Or detectives at a dead end should call him." Her voice trailed away and I could hear more typing.
"What sorts of cases does he work?" I asked.
"Whatever's there, it looks like." She paused. "Wow."
"What?"
"Just found a picture. He's hot." I snorted. "What? He is!"
"Where was the picture?" I laughed.
"Awards dinner. He looks like he's going to punch DuPret, though." She paused. "He's really, really hot, Amy."
"All right, all right." I laughed. "I'll be right back up." I clicked the phone shut, grinning to myself. Every forensics department needs a woman with purple hair.
I recognized Karne's lanky form from the outside of the revolving door to my office building but didn't process why he was familiar, and who he was, until I was inside. He was pacing irritably outside the rank of metal detectors. I started toward him, determined to thank him for his assistance with the potting soil.
"Doctor, at last; I began to wonder how long a lunch you could take." He covered the distance between us in a few long strides and came to a stop in front of me with a harried look on his face.
"What are you…?" I began.
"I will require your assistance," he said sharply, stretching out a long arm to take me by the elbow and turn me back toward the door.
"Karne, I'm at work," I tried, providing a little resistance to his hand pressing against my arm. His look of annoyance increased; he dipped his chin and glared into my eyes. I cast my gaze around the lobby in time to see McLynn walk toward the elevators with an amused look on her face. She waved as she walked away.
"And you will continue to work when we're speaking to the building staff. Now come." He said, moving his features back into a look of mastery and drawing closer to press his palm into my back. I refused to budge again. "Really, doctor, must we argue in the lobby?"
"Yes we must," I snapped. "And stop calling me doctor. I'm not an MD."
"You are fussy, aren't you," he said, dropping his hand from my back. I crossed my arms and glared at him. "Ms. Connell, I'd like your assistance in interviewing the building staff about the disappearance of Iliver Ramos, night janitor, shortly before the discovery of the hand."
"Why?"
"Because it's important!" He said forcefully.
"No; why me?" I said, telling myself not to yell at him. "Why aren't you calling DuPret?"
"DuPret is a fool," he said, taking my arm again. I allowed myself to be redirected to the revolving door. He dropped my arm.
"He means well," I muttered.
"Even you don't believe that." Karne concluded. "And in response to your question: I have requested your assistance because you are officially involved with this case, and because you are a young woman."
"Why does…?" I began, scowling.
"It matters, Ms. Connell, because Mrs. Ramos might find one of us less threatening than the other." His mouth lifted into a partial grin.
"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" I muttered. To my surprise he let out a short and forceful laugh. We continued down the sidewalk nearly to the end of the block, where Karne drew up short next to a low and dark European sedan. Muttering to myself about men compensating by driving fancy cars, I maneuvered my stiff knee until I could get in.
"You've broken your kneecap." Karne noted. I nodded. "You have a scar?" He asked. I nodded again. "That will complicate things." I frowned. "In that we can't walk into Mrs. Ramos' neighborhood dressed as we are, Ms. Connell."
"What do you mean?" I wondered aloud.
"If we want her trust, we can't look like police." Karne said patiently.
"Fair enough." I agreed. I looked out the side window as Karne drove, and was surprised to see the streets look familiar. "Where are we going?"
"To your home, of course, so you can change." Karne said.
"Why do you know where I live?" I couldn't keep a slightly hysterical note out of my voice.
"You're in the phone book." He said mildly. I rolled my eyes. "I was going to provide you with appropriate clothing, but your scar makes the skirt I chose impractical."
"Impractical?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Most women avoid showing large scars. The skirt might look like a disguise." He said.
"You're completely crazy." I asserted.
Mrs. Ramos was a frazzled looking woman with two children too young not to be held. When we met her she was on her own, with one infant in the crook of her arm and a toddler loosely contained at her side. She sat on a couch, where the toddler bounced continually as we talked. Mrs. Ramos' face was sunburned, but the color stopped abruptly at her neckline. Her fingernails were short and the skin of her hands cracked. Her dark eyes skipped quickly between Karne and me as we sat across from her. She hardly moved as we spoke except to save her thick braid from her toddler, who took hold of the end as he jumped.
Karne did most of the talking. They spoke in Spanish too rapid for my limited knowledge of the language to keep pace. I could extract some meaning from the conversation by comparing a few words to Italian, but I knew I'd have to rely on Karne's account. For some reason that idea didn't bother me. It always annoyed me to rely on DuPret's account—of anything.
At the close of their conversation Karne walked quickly to the car, silent and frowning. He held his silence through the afternoon traffic. At last, he parked outside a coffee shop and turned toward me with a sharp intake of breath.
"His disappearance coincides with the date I believe the hand was placed in the pot." He said.
"Yes?" I prodded.
"They are Salvadoran nationals living with forged papers. DuPret will not find a match for the fingerprints." He said, a frustrated note creeping into his voice.
"You're concerned about linking the hand to Mr. Ramos." I clarified.
"In a way that will hold up in court, yes." Karne agreed, still frowning. "It's clear enough for our purposes."
"What about DNA?" I asked. "McLynn sent tests out."
"To match with what, Connell?" Karne smirked.
"Hair, maybe?" I mused.
"Mrs. Ramos is illegal as well. She'll never let a team in to ransack her house for a sample." Karne waved a hand toward me. He turned back toward the windshield. "No, we must think of something else."
"There wouldn't be a sample left at the office, would there?" I wondered.
"Unlikely." Karne said. He turned toward me again. "Unlikely, but possible." He started the car and turned us toward the office building.
We were part-way there when my phone rang. It was DuPret. "Doc, where the hell are you?"
"In traffic. What do you need?" I answered, gritting my teeth to stay polite.
"I've got a couple missing persons reports on secretaries from the office. I need genders on those bones." He said. I noticed Karne raising his eyebrows as he listened in.
"Can't do it, DuPret," I hedged. "I can't give you a conclusive answer with the bones I've got. You've got two females missing? Is that it?"
"Yeah, two females. Both in their mid-twenties. Medium stature. Worked for the company lawyer." DuPret continued.
"At the same time?" I asked.
"Nah. One worked there, went missing, then the other got hired. Then she went missing." I heard a sound of shuffling paper in the background. "Looks like the reports are two months apart." I looked over toward Karne. He caught my eye and nodded.
"Look, could you get me copies of those reports? I can see if there's anything about them I can use to make a link." DuPret shuffled a few more papers.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll route both to you now." He said. "You say you can't give me genders, though?"
"Not with what I've got," I said. "But I'll get back to you if I can think of something." DuPret let me know he was frustrated for a while before hanging up. I couldn't help the irritated noise I let out before hitting the end button. Out the corner of my eye I could see Karne's mouth curl into a smile.
We walked into the building that evening after the bulk of the workers had left. During the intervening time Karne had told me the potting soil change happened only two weeks ago. No wonder that hand was so fresh. He also asked me a question I berated myself for failing to ask: was the soil around the bones unusual in any way. It wasn't, in fact, but even that was important. To me, it meant that the bones had been buried already stripped of soft tissue. As they weren't charred—the obvious way to rid a skeleton of flesh—the dismemberment of those bodies must've been painstaking. It was certainly food for thought.
To my surprise the night security guard greeted Karne by name when we entered the main lobby. The woman's beaded braids clicked as she stood to shake his hand over the security desk. Karne introduced me as his coworker.
"How long are you assigned here?" The woman asked. I tried not to look confused as Karne slouched against the desk.
"I've got another two weeks, boss says," he said casually. I attempted to keep my posture natural. Would it have troubled him to tell me what was happening?
"Ought to be longer that that, with how late you work." The woman protested. She shook her head, sending off a peal of clicks from her beads. "They ought to hire you permanently."
"Tell them that, huh?" Karne said. I registered that he'd put on a vague accent—faintly northeastern. "All I know's I'm out of here. Besides, I've already been here long enough that the staff's changed on my floor."
"What do you mean?" The woman asked, her forehead wrinkling. "Staff's the same as when you got here."
"No, there used to be this guy; he came in after hours. Don't remember his name." Karne turned toward me and directed his musings at me. "You know who I mean, Connell? The guy that used to come in to vacuum."
"Yeah," I played along. "Dark hair?"
"That's the one," Karne lazily pointed toward me, then turned back to the guard. "He's been gone a while now."
"You mean Iliver?" She said at last, looking back and forth between us. "Big guy? Spoke mostly Spanish?"
"Yeah, him." Karne said casually. "What happened to that guy?"
"Took off, they think," she mused, drawing her nails through her braids. "He was illegal. They think he just left."
"Too bad about that," Karne said. "At least he picked up after that fern by my desk. Thing loses leaves all day long."
"Don't know why they've got so many plants in here." The guard mused, casting an eye disparagingly at a large planting in the lobby. "Can't even see around them with the cameras."
"Yeah?" I asked. "But they're all over."
"I know," the woman said. "They've got all these cameras in the building and half of them are blocked by leaves." She shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well," Karne said suddenly, heaving himself upright and turning toward the bank of elevators. "About time I got home."
"Making me jealous," the guard teased. She sank back into her chair as we walked to the elevators. Once the doors were closed, Karne shoved the rogue lock of hair behind his ear again. It fell back out of place instantly.
