Kim understood and realised this was an investigation into time. How long had the bones been buried; how long since the bones had been moved. How old were the victims?
Crime scene investigators tried to use evidence to create linkage, like a hair on the clothing of a suspect; a fibre from the victim found in the home of a suspect. All to create an association between a perpetrator and a crime.
Kim moved to the foot of the first gurney, the one with the most bones but still without a skull. Travis sidled along the other side.
Had these bodies been buried separately? And then thrown together. Why three bodies all in the same grave?
She suspected that Locard’s exchange principle was not going to help them here. His theory of leaving trace materials picked up from elsewhere, like hairs from dogs, and children etc, would be a challenge to execute if the bodies had already been moved.
‘Can you tell us anything about victim one?’
Doctor A reached for the clipboard that was hanging off the end of the gurney. Kim was reminded of a medical doctor doing rounds and checking progress of their patients. Live ones.
She hoped to God the scientist had something for her. Identifying the victims was always her priority, for both personal and professional reasons. She detested anonymity in her victims. Every one of them had been a real life person and deserved the respect of their own name. And professionally it was the beginning of the crumb trail. It was the centre of the investigative wheel. Spokes pointed out in every direction from the identity of a victim; family, work, friends, lovers, activities, enemies, past. Without an identity they had nothing.
Kim knew that there were ways to sex an adult, but not a child or juvenile. She knew the skull was not good for age estimation in adults.
‘Victim one is a male aged between forty-five to sixty. I would estimate approximately six feet tall with…’
‘Hey, slow down,’ Kim said, taken by surprise. It looked as though she was going to get more detail than she’d expected. If only Keats was around to take notes.
Travis had his leather folder open and ready.
‘You can pinpoint his age that accurately already?’ Kim queried.
Doctor A pointed to the long bones of the arms and legs.
‘The growth plates in here are closed. They remain open as the bones grow and close when growing ends, normally no later than twenty-five years of age. X-rays indicate that the level of bone calcium is consistent with a male older than forty.’
‘Okay,’ Kim said.
‘And here,’ she said, pointing to the ribs. ‘The sternal areas are pitted and sharp through ageing. The level of pitting at the junctions would suggest early fifties to approximately sixty years of age.’
Travis continued to scribble furiously.
Kim wondered at the level of detail he was recording. She could quite easily remember middle-aged male.
‘And the height?’ she asked, dubiously.
Doctor A frowned at the doubt in her voice.
‘For that we are consulting the long bones again. Height is usually equalling to five times the length of the humerus.’
Kim found herself looking at her own arm. She hadn’t known that.
Travis stepped forward, holding his pen aloft. ‘Can you give us an idea of the man’s build?’
Doctor A narrowed her eyes.
Travis read this as a communication issue but Kim knew the doctor better than that. She knew what he was asking.
‘Physique,’ he clarified.
‘I understand the question, Sergeant, but I don’t understand why you would ask it.’
‘Because the last bones person I worked with was able to offer an idea of build based on the bone size and thickness,’ he challenged, imperiously.
Kim considered asking Travis if he would like his genitals gift-wrapped when they were handed to him.
‘Then your bones person was a cock head,’ the doctor said, simply.
Kim suspected she meant dickhead but same difference.
‘Thicker bones can indicate thicker muscles, but this is not reliable as bone thickness is also dependant on nutrition, heavy physical activity. Your so-called expert was guessing. I give you only facts and leave the guessing to you.’
Doctor A had come to stand before him. The size difference was laughable. Doctor A’s head was tipped back at seventy degrees to meet his gaze.
The scene reminded her of a Chihuahua barking at a Doberman. Dogs had no concept of their own size. For the first time in her life she actually felt sorry for Travis.
Kim stepped forward like a referee at a boxing match. ‘Anything else for us, Doctor A?’
The scientist offered one last look as she took a step back. Kim would not have been surprised to hear her growl.
‘Aah, delivery,’ she called out as the doors opened, but it was not pizza coming through the door.
Two techs entered, each carrying a white plastic box. The shorter male had a bouquet of colourful blooms clutched in his armpit.
Doctor A frowned. ‘Flowers, Timothy?’
‘Marina said to bring them here,’ he said, nodding towards the gurneys. ‘Brought to site by Mr Preece.’
Kim’s head snapped up. ‘Dale Preece brought flowers?’ she asked. He hadn’t appeared the flower-giving type to her.
Timothy shook his head. ‘No, this one introduced himself as Bart. Offered no trouble. Said a prayer, and left when we asked him to.’
‘You moved the flowers?’ Doctor A asked.
Timothy nodded towards the gurneys. ‘To be with the victims,’ he said.
The Doc shook her head. ‘They are to mark the grave,’ she said. ‘Never mind; now, who has the skull?’
The first tech that had entered shook his head as he placed his box onto the metal counter.
‘Marina said to give you this first,’ he said, removing the storage box lid. He handed her the smallest possible evidence bag, which was an inch square.
Both she and Travis leaned forward as the doc held it up to the light.
‘Dirt?’ she queried, as her voice rose. ‘Mame mu ebam, I have enough dirt, Timothy,’ she said, impatiently.
‘Look again,’ he said, evenly. The man was clearly used to the Macedonian outbursts from his boss.
She grabbed a magnifying glass from the desk and huffed as she inspected closer. The deep frown changed to a look of surprise like a CGI graphic.
‘No ways,’ she breathed.
‘What?’ Kim and Travis asked together.
‘A fibre,’ Doctor A said, wondrously.
‘No way,’ Kim said, realising she had repeated the scientist’s words.
Doctor A was still shaking her head as she placed the bag onto the counter.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Kim asked. Anything she could tell them would be helpful.
The doc shook her head. ‘This will go to the laboratory. If it is our only one we must ensure we get everything we can from it.’
Kim understood. They did not have the necessary equipment at the morgue to glean everything the fibre could offer.
It would take longer but it would be worth it.