Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones, Page 2

  Yanking his cell from its clip on his belt, he called Dispatch. “Solomon on duty?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Gordon relayed his coordinates and requested that Ed Solomon, the closest thing Mapleton had to a crime scene investigator, report to his position. Next, Gordon scrolled through his contact list and placed the call to the Coroner’s Office. He gritted his teeth when he was connected to Pierce Asel, a deputy coroner he’d worked with before.

  After Gordon explained the situation, the man said, “One bone? You sure it’s human?” It sounded like Gordon had interrupted a meal.

  “No, I’m not. That’s why I need you to come out and verify it.”

  “It’s Saturday.” Asel said.

  And when you accepted the position, you knew people didn’t die between nine and five, Monday through Friday.

  He kept his tone civil. “I’m aware of that, and sorry to bother you. I wish we’d have found the bone yesterday afternoon, but we didn’t. It shouldn’t take long for you to determine whether it’s human or not.”

  Chewing sounds on the other end of the line made Gordon’s stomach growl for his missed meals. “Where’d you say it was again?” Asel asked.

  “Mapleton. The bone is in the woods not far from Aspen Lake, off of Lakeview Circle. If you’ve got a GPS, I’ll give you the exact coordinates.”

  Gordon heard another voice in the background. Female. Some rustling of paper.

  “Go ahead,” Asel said.

  Gordon relayed the directions. “It’s a little tricky to find. If you’ll call me when you’re close, I’ll meet you on the street.”

  “Might be a while.”

  “I understand.” Gordon mashed the End Call button. If the man left now, he could be here in an hour. Gordon estimated it would be closer to two. Asel had a reputation for not caring whether he kept patrol officers waiting if going out on a call interfered with his life.

  Wonder if he knows they call him Asel the Asshole.

  God forbid the man was at the movies when a call came in. And a single bone, likely very old, and not confirmed human, wasn’t going to light a fire under him.

  He tried not to think about the food in his vehicle. Or what Asel was having for dinner. What he couldn’t help but think about was if the bone was human, who had it belonged to? And when he or she had died?

  While Gordon waited for Solomon, he did a cursory check of the area. As far as he could tell, with the exception of Artie’s interrupted excavation, the place was undisturbed. In the distance, he heard children’s shrieks and splashes as they took advantage of the warm day. He smiled, remembering swinging out over the lake on the rope tied to a sturdy oak. Of the summer when he’d realized there was a difference between boys and girls.

  Which led his thoughts to Angie. He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to try to get away, but don’t make plans.”

  “Something serious?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. Dog found a bone, and it might be human. We’re required to call the coroner, so I’m stuck waiting for him—at least until Solomon gets here to take over guard duty. With luck, I’ll be at your place within the hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Her voice was a combination of sultry and teasing.

  “I already am.” He disconnected before things escalated.

  Minutes later, Solomon called. “Hey, Chief. I’m parked behind you. Where do you want me?”

  “Hang tight. I’m on my way.” In lieu of crime scene tape, Gordon tied his handkerchief to a branch. He retraced his steps, trotting the final yards to the street. Solomon leaned against the fender of his cruiser. “Sorry to call you out,” Gordon said.

  “Comes with the territory. Who’s on call at the Coroner’s Office?”

  When Gordon told him, Solomon groaned. “Glad I took my dinner break. Asel’s definitely got an attitude problem when it comes to small towns. Why should we always have to wait on him because we’re not high-profile?”

  Gordon grabbed his flashlight from his SUV and took one more deep inhale of its barbeque-scented interior. “Yeah, well wait until I have to explain to the bean counters why I have to pull an officer from patrol to watch over a bone until Asel finishes his dinner, and God knows what else before he gets his rear in gear to show up in Mapleton.”

  Solomon snorted. “Hey, tell me how you really feel. But, to be fair, it’s only Asel who’s an asshole. The rest of them are prompt enough. At least we don’t need to call them very often.”

  “Thank goodness for that. Grab your camera and some tape.” Without waiting, Gordon headed toward the scene. Solomon’s footfalls sounded behind him.

  “I’m thinking breadcrumbs might have been a good idea,” Solomon said as they picked their way through the overgrown path. “How’d you find this place?”

  “Didn’t. A dog did.” Gordon spotted the white handkerchief. “Over there. Where the dirt’s dug up. Tell me what you think.”

  Solomon paced the perimeter of the site, aiming his flashlight, crouching, pacing some more. “I’d say some animal tried to bury this bone. And since you have an eyewitness who says that animal was a dog, I’ll go out on a limb and say it was a dog.”

  Gordon shook his head. “Duly noted.”

  “This the only bone?” Solomon asked.

  “Only one I saw. Short of digging up the area, which I won’t do until we get the word from the coroner, we’re babysitting. Meanwhile, get some shots so I can show Mayor Alexander that we’re doing our jobs.”

  Gordon’s stomach knotted, and this time it wasn’t from hunger. He felt trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place. If he didn’t delegate manpower to follow procedure and this turned out to be a legitimate investigation, he’d be called on the mayor’s fancy Oriental carpet for neglecting his duties. But if it turned out to be nothing, he’d end up on that same carpet for wasting Mapleton’s resources. He already dreaded the inevitable memo—as if the mayor was collecting them to use as ammunition when Gordon’s contract was up for renewal. And, as he had done so many times before, Gordon wondered if it would be that bad if he were fired. He’d only accepted the position as a favor to Dix, his mentor. He still hadn’t figured out why Dix had pushed for him to take the job.

  But he had, and Gordon would damn well do his damn best, no matter what the damn mayor threw at him.

  The woods took on an eerie quality as Solomon snapped pictures, the bursts of light from the camera’s powerful flash making trees and branches stand out in stark relief. He lowered the camera. “I’m no criminalist, but this appears to be a secondary site—or tertiary, or whatever the next dozen “aries” are.”

  “Agreed. Best guess is that the bone came from the woods in the vicinity of the Kretzers’, which is where the dog’s involvement began.”

  “A shame he can’t talk,” Solomon said. “Save a lot of time and effort.” Solomon slipped on a pair of gloves and picked up the bone. “Too bad the ends are chewed up. Might be a deer, might be human. I wouldn’t put money on either one.” He smiled. “That’s Asel’s job.” He poked at it with a fingertip. “Old, though.” He held the bone out to Gordon. “See how it’s brittle, and my fingernail leaves an indentation.”

  “Old as in five years or fifty?” Gordon asked, his mind already trying to search back through time.

  “Can’t be precise—that’s why the forensic anthropologists get the big bucks. But based on what I know about buried bones, I’d say at least thirty.”

  Gordon did a mental comparison of his arm and the length of the bone. “Adult?”

  “Be my guess there, too.” Solomon set the bone back where he’d found it. “You know anyone who disappeared thirty years ago? I didn’t grow up here the way you did.”

  “Thirty years ago I was six. I don’t remember, not that my folks would have included me in any news like that. I’d have to go through the archives. But not until the coroner tells us this is a human bone.”

  “Life would be easier if he confirms it’s
a deer.” Solomon scratched his chin. “How much due diligence do you think is reasonable before we find out? I mean, should we already be making an effort to figure out where the dog found the bone, even if it ends up being a deer? In case it isn’t. What if there’s an entire skeleton there? Or a mass grave?”

  Gordon’s phone interrupted Solomon’s far-fetched speculation. “Chief Hepler.”

  Asel’s voice snapped at him. “I’m turning onto Lakeview Circle.”

  “Turn left where it heads around the lake. You’ll see our two units. I’ll meet you there.” He disconnected and stuck the phone in its holder. “It might not be such a long night after all.” Gordon flipped on his flashlight and struck out for the street.

  “Unless he says it’s human.” Solomon called after him.

  But it was Solomon’s question of due diligence that followed Gordon to his SUV.

  Gordon pasted on a smile as he approached the coroner’s van. Asel was already waddling toward him. Gordon’s attempt at a civil greeting was swallowed by Asel’s impatient scowl.

  “Where’s this bone that is so important? Let’s get going. I’ve got places to be.”

  Gordon gave up on civility. “Follow me.” He turned on his heel and marched away, trying not to snicker at Asel, who weighed a good three hundred pounds, puffing and wheezing behind him. Scuttlebutt had it that Asel’s major qualifications for the job were experience in a funeral parlor, from which he’d retired, and being married to a distant cousin of the head coroner. But Gordon never cared enough to verify the rumors. Most of what Asel did was pronounce bodies dead and issue death certificates.

  By now the sun had dipped behind the mountains, eliminating most of the light. More than once, Gordon heard Asel curse as he stumbled over a branch or rock. The man had the smarts to bring a flashlight, but he waved it around the trees like spotlights at a rock concert instead of using it to illuminate the trail. “Don’t suppose there are any bears around, do you?”

  If there are, they’ll run the other way when they hear you coming.

  “Don’t think so. Didn’t notice any tracks when we first came through.”

  Asel grunted in between wheezes.

  “Right up ahead,” Gordon said. He shined his own flashlight, catching reflections of the yellow tape Solomon had strung. Solomon waved his own light in response.

  “Someone’s there?” Asel said. “What about contamination?”

  “That would be Officer Ed Solomon,” Gordon said before Asel complained about anything else. “He’s been containing the scene.”

  Asel clomped up to the edge of the tape and wiped his forehead. Solomon beamed his light at the bone. Asel stepped closer, pursing his lips in and out. He removed the bone from its resting place. “Give me some more light.”

  Both Gordon and Solomon complied, trying to keep the light on the bone as Asel moved it back and forth, up and down, studying it from all angles. “This is the only one?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” Solomon said. “Animal Control found a dog burying it.”

  Asel frowned. “Interesting.” He squinted, turned the bone, mumbled under his breath. As if someone had thrown a switch, his demeanor switched from asshole to scholarly. He held the bone out toward Gordon and Solomon, pointing as he spoke. “It’s been well-chewed, although I’m not sure all these teeth marks are recent. It’s the ends that tell us the most. However, despite the damage, I have no doubt that what we have is a human humerus.”

  Chapter 3

  Although Gordon had been expecting it, hearing the word “human” still hit him like a jab to the gut. From the expression on Asel’s face, Gordon knew better than to question his findings. For a moment, he couldn’t speak at all.

  “How old was the victim?” Solomon’s question brought Gordon back on task. Right. Knowing as much as possible about the bone might help them find its original owner.

  “It’s impossible to pinpoint,” Asel said. “But it’s clear that the epiphyses are closed, so we’re looking at someone at least twenty-five years old.”

  “What?” Gordon said, still trying to absorb the radical change in Asel.

  Asel pointed to a spot near the ends of the bone. “Here. These are growth plates. When they close, you stop growing. That usually happens in your mid-twenties.”

  “Got it. Can you tell whether it was a male or female?” Gordon asked.

  “With DNA, yes. Which I doubt we’ll get approval for, unless we know we’re going to have something to match it to. Low priority, too costly, and it’ll take some time. The experts might be able to speculate based on the diameter of the bone’s head—if we had it. The dog destroyed most of it, but it’s a remote possibility.”

  Where had Mister Intellectual Nice Guy come from? No matter. As long as Asel was on a roll, Gordon wasn’t going to question it. “How about overall height?”

  Asel held the bone by its ends. “There’s a formula for determining height based on the length of the bone. Another job for the experts.”

  “One more question,” Solomon said. “How long has this bone been in the ground?”

  Asel pursed his lips. “Can’t say. My guess—and it’s strictly a guess—is between thirty and forty years.” His lips curved in what might have been a smile. “I apologize for my earlier… attitude. You interrupted what was supposed to be a private celebration, and my wife was none too happy about the call out. My boss seems to take perverse pleasure in sticking me with the… least desirable shifts, the no-brainer cases. Usually I feel like that doctor on Star Trek. You know, always saying, ‘He’s dead.’ Gets to be a royal pain. However, this”—he gestured with the bone—“presents an interesting puzzle. I’ll take it to the forensic anthropology lab and follow up myself.”

  “We’ll walk you out,” Gordon said. He and Solomon exchanged a Who’da thunk it? glance as Gordon retrieved his handkerchief before they led the way down the trail.

  “Without wanting to sound too much like Columbo,” Solomon said once they reached their vehicles, “I have one more question.”

  This time Asel’s smile was unmistakable. “Ask away.”

  Solomon glanced at Gordon, but quickly looked away, focusing his attention on Asel. “What kind of a priority would you give searching for the place where this bone was found? You know, in case there are more?”

  “More bones would make the possibility of identification easier,” Asel said. “And, although that job is one for the detectives, not forensics workers, once you know who the body belonged to, the more likely you are to solve the puzzle.”

  Solomon gave Gordon a look that was all too reminiscent of Artie’s eagerness to connect with that bone. “It wouldn’t hurt to look for the original scene.” At Gordon’s frown, he added, “I’m on the clock until oh six hundred.”

  “However, given that the bone appears to have been in the ground for so many years, I can’t say there’s any sense of urgency to find them tonight,” Asel said.

  Solomon looked almost crestfallen. “I guess you’re right.”

  “On the other hand,” Asel continued, “If someone’s been grieving for a loved one, every day can seem like an eternity.”

  Solomon brightened. “So, you’re saying it might be doing a good deed if we found the gravesite. Give closure.”

  “Whoa,” Gordon said. “Nobody said anything about a gravesite. The dog found a bone. One bone. Could have come from anywhere. And there’s another factor. What if there’s nobody grieving, nobody wanting closure, because they’re the ones who are responsible for the death in the first place?” Gordon caught Solomon’s grin and realized what he’d said. The words his subconscious had shoved out of his mouth.

  “Right, Chief. We could be looking for a murderer.”

  Asel opened the door to his van. “As I said, you have your job, I have mine. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Gordon stared after the van as Asel drove away. “You think we should spend the rest of the night hunting for a bunch of bones?” he said to Solomon.<
br />
  His officer’s grin widened. “You have something else to do?”

  Gordon’s conscience entered a wrestling ring worthy of the WWE. Should he consider this a case, albeit a cold one? Would another day—or two—make a difference? And if it did, why did he have to be part of the hunt? He could send Solomon, maybe add another officer. The more he thought about it, the more he heard Mayor Alexander demanding justification for the manpower.

  Solomon’s radio crackled to life. Irv, the night dispatcher’s voice came through. “Roberta Blanchard’s complaining about Crazy Freddy again. Solomon, you’re closest. Why doncha head up there?”

  What was Irv doing working on a Saturday night? Gordon wondered why it hadn’t registered with him when he’d called Dispatch earlier.

  Lately Irv tended to forget details—including the fact that anything put over the radio could be picked up by anyone with a scanner, or even a computer. Gordon didn’t have the heart to fire the man, and made sure his shifts were on predictably slow nights. Never a Friday or Saturday.

  Gordon yanked the radio from Solomon’s collar. “Dispatch, this is Chief Hepler.” He sucked in a quick breath, reminding himself not to do exactly what he was reprimanding Irv for. He’d save that for a private face-to-face. “Please repeat.” He hoped his tone conveyed the message.

  “Right, Sir.” Irv cleared his throat. “Citizen requests assistance.” Irv proceeded to give Fred’s address. “Mapleton Three, please proceed. Code one.”

  Gordon handed the radio to Solomon, who stood at exaggerated attention, peering over Gordon’s shoulder. Clearly, he was having trouble keeping a straight face as he responded to the call. “Mapleton Three. En route.” Solomon clipped the radio back to his collar. “You want to switch with me? You’re the Chief. You can do that.”

  Gordon smirked. “Dream on. I’ll read your report on Monday.”

  Solomon drove off toward the foothills near the outskirts of town. Another couple hundred yards, Gordon thought, and Fred would live outside the city limits, and he’d be County’s problem.