Raising Cain by Gallatin Warfield Read Free Book Online Page A

that of a well-nourished African-American male,” Bellini said, “younger in appearance than seventy-six years.”
     He placed a latex-gloved finger in Joseph’s mouth. “Teeth are all natural, and in good condition.” He shone a light inside.
     “Palate normal. Throat clear.” He rolled back the eyelids. “Pupils normal and dilated, irises clear.”
    Bellini proceeded down the body, noting his findings: “Clear.” “Unremarkable.” “Normal.”
    He picked up a wrist. “Small abrasion on the under portion of the right wrist.” He placed a ruler next to it. “Approximately
     seven centimeters in length. Straight line cut, with serrations on each side.” Bellini adjusted his headband magnifier and
     bent close to the arm. “Several fibers embedded in the wound.” He picked up a pair of forceps and carefully extracted the
     tiny hairlike strands. “Samples removed for analysis.” He placed them on glass slides and sealed the slides in plastic.
    “Similar markings on the left wrist,” Bellini continued. “Four-and-one-half-centimeter abrasion, uneven edges, and…”—he eyed
     the wound through his magnifier—“similar fibers affixed.” Again he removed samples.
    Continuing down the body, Bellini found no other marks or wounds. Everything was “clear,” “normal,” or “unremarkable.”
    “Exterior examination complete,” Bellini said. Now it was time to see what lay inside. He picked up a scalpel.
    Just then the phone rang. He picked it up. “Bellini.”
    “Who?”
    “This is Dr. Tony Bellini. Who’s calling?”
    “Sergeant Joe Brown. County police.” Brownie was caught off guard by the unfamiliar voice. He had been told there would be
     a delay until tonight, not that there had been a roster switch.
    Bellini suddenly realized who was on the line. “Sergeant,” he said.
    “Have you started yet?” There was apprehension in his voice.
    “Just the external.”
    Brownie hesitated. “Did you check his wrists?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did you find?”
    Bellini thought for a moment. It was not proper to discuss findings midstream, not even with next of kin. “Are you sure you
     want to talk about this now?”
    “Yes,” Brownie said. “I have to know. What’s your reading on the abrasions? I thought they looked like ligature wounds.”
    “They’re minor cuts,” Bellini said, “but they did contain embedded fibers.”
    Brownie swallowed. That was consistent with a rope burn. “So his hands might have been tied?”
    “Can’t say for sure, but the marks could be consistent with that, yes.”
    “Did you find any other marks or wounds?”
    “No. Except for the wrists, there were no other injuries.”
    “You’re sure?” Maybe he’d missed something when he’d checked the body himself.
    “Yes. I went over him very carefully. He was clean.”
    Brownie went silent for a second. “I would like you to run a fingerprint test,” he said at last, “on his skin.”
    Bellini looked at his admission document. Any tests beyond those forming part of a normal autopsy had to be enumerated on
     the form. “It’s not on the chart,” he apologized.
    Brownie sighed. “Do you have the equipment available? The spray and the UV lamp?”
    “Just a minute.” Bellini checked the supply cabinet and returned.
    “Yes.”
    “Are you qualified to lift prints from human skin?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Run the test,” Brownie begged. “Please.”
    Bellini looked at the chart again, then at the body of Joseph Brown. He hadn’t done one of these in quite a while, but Brownie’s
     tone of voice made it hard to refuse. “Okay,” he conceded, “I’ll do it.” He could always pencil in the request authorization
     after the fact.
    “Thank you,” Brownie replied. “I’m very grateful. Let me know if you turn up any prints.”
    “Will do,” Bellini said. Then he hung up the phone.
    Bellini rolled Joseph onto his stomach and extended his arms away from the body.
    Several years earlier a