В сердце большого города скрываются тайны и загадки. Каждое утро открывает новый слой этой истории, напоминая о безвозвратности прошлого. Внутренние драмы и судьбы, переплетающиеся в пространстве и времени, создают непредсказуемую атмосферу будничной мелодрамы.
Parent as he was with every corpse he studied, prime minister or petty thief. Pierre LaManche refused to acknowledge unexplained death.
By ten-thirty I’d unwrapped the bundled remains recovered from the second depression in the pizza parlor basement."
"By eleven-thirty I’d disengaged the bones from their leather shroud, removed their matrix of dirt and adipocere, and arranged them anatomically on the autopsy table.
By three-forty I’d completed my inventory and examination.
The skeleton designated LSJML-38428 was that of a white female, sixty-five to sixty-eight inches in height, who had died between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. She had poor dental hygiene, no restorations, and a well-healed Colles’ fracture of the right radius. Her skeleton showed only minimal postmortem damage, and bore no evidence of trauma occurring at or near the time of her death.
My preliminary conclusions had been correct. Though slightly older, this third girl was disturbingly similar to the other two.
I was jotting a few last notes when I heard the door to the outer office open and close. Seconds later LaManche appeared. His expression told me he hadn’t come to report an aneurysm.
“I found excess deoxygenated hemoglobin in the venous blood, indicating cyanosis.”
“Asphyxia.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing atypical for a woman in her seventh decade of life.”
“So she may have been smothered.”
“I fear that is a possibility.”
“Any injuries?”
LaManche wagged his head. “No fractures. No hemorrhage. No scratches or claw marks. No tissue under her nails. Nothing to suggest a struggle.”
“She could have been attacked while sleeping. Or drugged.”
“I will request a full toxicology screen.”
Again, the outer door opened then clicked shut. Booted footsteps crossed the ante-office.
Ryan was doing detective casual that day. Denim shirt, jeans, tan wool blazer with elbow patches.
Ryan and LaManche exchanged “Bonjour”s.
Ryan and I exchanged nods.
LaManche filled Ryan in on his findings.
“Time of death?” Ryan asked.
“Did you observe any evidence of a last meal?”
“Saucepan, spoon, and cup in the dish rack. Empty soup can in the trash. Garden vegetable.”
“The stomach contents were completely evacuated. That would have occurred within three hours of consumption of the soup.”
“Niece says the ladies usually ate supper around seven, turned in around nine or ten.”
“If the soup was her supper, and not her lunch.” LaManche raised a finger.
