The Dead Soul by M. William Phelps Read Free Book Online Page B

NPR, academic voices. Kelsey was often thrashed on the witness stand by defense attorneys, who chastised her for speaking to juries as if they were children.
    Indeed, that was Kelsey. Miss Finger-Wagger.
    Kelsey waited by the elevator door to greet Jake. Tiegs had called her to say Jake was on the way down. Kelsey had held off with her autopsy report on Jane Doe, now Lisa Marie Taylor. She wanted to get Jake down into her death suite first to explain a few things in person. From shoes to hairclip, Kelsey looked every bit of her fifty-six years. She was trained as a pathologist in New Hampshire at Green Mountain Institute. Her forensic training was in Albany. The BPD used Kelsey on just about every major homicide it put in front of a jury. She qualified in the state of Massachusetts as an expert by conducting thousands of autopsies.
    Kelsey’d had a long day, Jake Cooper could tell, and it was only a little after nine in the morning. “This smell, it doesn’t bother you?” It was worse than Jake could recall.
    “We got an accident in yesterday afternoon. A real tar-burner. Some sweet little college intern forgot to put her in the cooler until this morning. Sorry, Cooper. About your gal, Jane Doe …” The doctor pulled a chart out and, having trouble flipping the top page because she was wearing yellow rubber gloves, asked Jake for help. “Lisa Marie Taylor.”
    “Right. Missing five days. We think dead for probably four.”
    They walked toward the autopsy suite. Orderlies in hospital greens passed. An African-American coroner Jake knew stopped. “Yo, been a while, Coop. What’s up, son?” They bumped fists. “I’m feelin’ the whole Russell Crowe thing you’re rockin’ these days. Suits you, man. Lookin’ good.”
    “Not now, Nelsen. Call me, okay.” Jake looked at Kelsey, continued walking. “You find out anything? Something I can use? This is no routine rape-murder here, Kelsey. Am I right?”
    “No, definitely not routine. I can establish with ninety-nine percent certitude, however, that there was no rape, or sexual assault.”
    This surprised Jake. His man was strictly a killer, which meant the motive was buried deep inside him. Murder meant something to him personally. There was an emotional connection to killing. He wasn’t murdering to cover up other crimes or part of a series of crimes.
    “I’ve seen no other killer who cuts with such precision,” Kelsey said, almost as if she envied his knife skills.
    “What are we thinking, then? A doctor? Veterinarian? Some sort of medical professional? How ‘bout military? Any of those ring a bell here?” The smell still affected Jake. He couldn’t believe it didn’t bother Kelsey. He pictured her apartment having the same odor, only mellower, like a convalescent home.
    Pre-death.
    “I won’t take that leap just yet.”
    “Where’s Dickie?”
    “I’m told he’s on his way. Have a look at the incision here,” Kelsey explained as they approached Lisa Marie’s body. The vic had been scrubbed and washed. Placed under the lights on a stainless steel gurney with large-spoked wheels. There was a sink drain for fluids at one end. “It’s important for me to tell you, Cooper, that Lisa Marie here, she was unquestionably dead when her chest was opened.”
    They both sighed. Some consolation that was.
    “Tell me again how you ascertain these things?”
    “Well,” Kelsey pointed to where the incision in Lisa’s chest started, “there’s something very interesting here that I found.” Kelsey circled an area of Lisa’s stomach with her gloved finger.
    “What’s that?”
    “My prelims tell me there were no poisons, toxins, et cetera, in her system. We found a minor trace of chloroform on her lips and in one lung.”
    “Knocked her out.”
    “Yep.”
    “Likewise for the legs?” Jake knew better, but wanted to be sure. “I mean, she was dead when those legs were amputated, right?”
    Kelsey closed her eyes. Turned slowly to Jake.