Embers of Murder (Jill Quint, MD, Forensic Pathologist Series Book 12)

by Alec Peche

  Jill Quint, MD, forensic pathologist, PI, and vintner, yawned as she watched her last barrel of newly harvested muscat grape juice forklifted into her wine cellar. It would rest there a year or two until she liked the taste of the wine and determined it was ready for bottling. So far, she nailed the perfect aging time as each of her vintages sold out. This was an exhausting time of the year with the physical labor of picking grapes in the hot sun. It was hard to drink enough water to keep up with her body’s water loss through sweat. She also kept an eye on her workers, not wanting any of them to suffer from heatstroke. They started picking at sunrise and stopped around noon before the temperatures exceeded one-hundred degrees. It took less than a week to do her entire acreage, but these were intensive days for Jill. Her Dalmatian, Trixie, knew they wouldn’t go for any runs the week of the harvest as even the dog was exhausted from being outside at Jill’s side every day.

  It was the end of a long week, and she planned nothing more than a celebratory glass of her first Moscato vintage and a pepperoni pizza with her partner, Nathan Conroy. She figured she would nod off by the third piece. He’d seen her through other vintages and knew she had three things on her mind—pizza, wine, and sleep.

  Just as she was entering her house to grab a shower, her cell phone rang, and oddly enough, it was from her old work number—the Sacramento Coroner’s Office.

  “Hello, this is Jill Quint.”

  “Hi Jill, it’s Jennifer Galloway. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “For an old colleague, sure. What’s up?” Jill asked, sitting down on her front stoop.

  “You heard about the bus accident in the fog on Highway 99?”

  “Yes,” Jill replied, thinking surely they weren’t asking her back to work for a few days on a mass casualty incident.

  “All of our resources are taken up dealing with the fifty-six bus deaths. We’ve had another case reach our lab that could use your expertise.”

  Whew, thought Jill, she wouldn’t have to think of an excuse to turn down her old colleague.

  “We’ve had three single men found within brushfire areas in the past six weeks. We’re wondering if they’re connected. The most recent victim was sent here, as the county couldn’t do the autopsy.”

  “Are you asking for my help as a PI or as a forensic pathologist?”

  “Both, actually. That’s what made me think of you. Would you be able to come to our office early tomorrow? You can review the evidence there and help us decide where to go next.”

  Jill thought about what perfect timing it was for this call. She had just finished a crucial part of her wine business, and at that very moment was free to move on to just about anything. On the other hand, she hated fire with a passion. It scared her how fast fire could destroy. The fact that her city was surrounded by dry brush each summer magnified that fear. She had never visited a fire scene while working for the state. They had wildfire victims come in, but she did her work in the autopsy suite and not in the field.

  “I’ll be there at eight. Does that work for you?” Jill replied.

  “That’s perfect and feel free to bring a bottle of your wine. I haven’t been able to find it in a store in Sacramento.”

  “Do you like Moscato wine?”

  “Do the leaves turn brown every fall? Of course I like Moscato!”

  “Okay, I’ll come with a bottle in hand.”

  “You’re the best, Jill!”

  They ended their call and Jill spent a few moments thinking about the case potential. Lone men were found dead in brushfire areas. It happened every year that she could recall while working for the state. The men were always homeless or antisocial hermits. They often started the fire that killed them, and usually it was due to a cigarette or unattended campfire. She began sweating even more as she saw herself in her imagination being surrounded by fire, unable to breathe, and knowing that a painful death awaited her. As if sensing her distress, Trixie leaned in and licked her face, which snapped her out of her scary visions. She gave the dog a hug for always seeming to know what she needed.

  She stood up to walk into her house, relieved that it was cooler inside. She debated heading upstairs to shower or walk over to her computer and do a Google search of recently announced deaths connected to wildfires. She decided it could wait as her brain could do with a rest from the sun and heat over the past few days. So, she headed upstairs to her shower. She had enough time to clean up, and then she would load her car for the drive north early the next morning.

  Once she was clean and presentable, she loaded her autopsy kit and laptop into her car. It was a two-hour drive to her old office, and she wanted to get moving early the next morning. She was zoning out on her sofa watching a home decorating show on television. Her feet rested on her coffee table, and her glass of Moscato was in her hand. She heard Nathan tap and open her front door carrying her beloved pizza.

  “You look relaxed, happy, and sleepy, all at once,” Nathan said, leaning down to kiss her as he set the pizza box on the coffee table.

  Jill thought a moment about the adjectives he used to describe her current mood and decided she agreed with them.

  “I am all of those descriptions. I’m relaxed because of the wine and the television show, happy that my harvest is done, and sleepy from several days of hard work. How was your day?”

  “Let me grab some plates and a glass of wine, and I’ll tell you about my latest project,” Nathan said, walking into her kitchen to do just that.

  He sat down next to her with the requisite supplies, and they spent a few moments digging into their respective slices of pizza. Jill’s half was pepperoni, ham, olives, and pineapple, while Nathan liked everything on his side of the pie.

  “So what’s up?” Jill asked, once her initial hunger was assuaged.

  “You can call me Professor.”

  “Really? Professor of what?”

  “My alma mater has hired me to teach wine marketing. I’ll be teaching the next generation of label makers and brochure designers whose purpose is to promote wine.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to do that. Congrats on your new title,” Jill said, leaning in to kiss him.

  “Frankly, I didn’t know I wanted to do that either. Do you remember a couple of months ago when I gave a guest lecture at the university? Apparently, the school got rave reviews and reached out to see if I could teach more.”

  “That’s great, Sweetie! Will you drive there once a week or something like that? It’s about ninety minutes or so if you avoid rush hour.”

  “Actually, I’ll stay overnight as they’ll have me teaching—two classes one on brand management and one on digital design. I’ll also have office hours on those two days.”

  “Wow. That’s so cool! The students will be lucky to have you,” Jill said.

  “Thanks. I enjoy teaching, and I think I have enough of a portfolio that I’m qualified to give expert advice. Someday I may take on a partner, but in the near term, I can offer students internships at my company, which will help me and help them.”

  “Wow. I’m so impressed. Why didn’t you say anything before now about this dream to teach?”

  “There was no point in talking about it until I knew it could come to fruition. My alma mater is the only school where I wanted teach. I don’t have a doctorate or even a Master's degree, so I thought I’d never gain footing in the academic world.”

  “Yeah, but you’re so brilliant at what you do. Yours is an ever-changing field reflecting consumer taste. The fact that you’ve led the way on brilliant designs counts for those who follow you. Let’s toast.”

  “I thought we were supposed to be toasting to the completion of your harvest.”

  “My harvest happens once a year. Your announcement is a once in a lifetime accomplishment. Cheers to you,” she said, clinking his glass.

  “At least you get to sleep in tomorrow after all the physical labor of the past few days,” Nathan said.

  “Actually, I don’t. I need to
be on the road to my former office in Sacramento. I’ve been asked to look into a suspicious death in a wildfire.”

  “Why? They’ve never called before for your help, have they?” Nathan said, trying to remember the various groups of people that Jill had worked with. Then Nathan was reminded of one of Jill’s phobias. “Will you be okay dealing with fire victims?”

  “Do you remember the bus crash on Interstate 99 yesterday? I guess they’re fully occupied with the victims. They have another case that requires a little forensic pathology and a little private investigator work, so they thought to call me. I need to be there at eight. As for the fire part of these investigations, I don’t know how I’ll handle that. Wish me luck.”

  “I do wish you luck, but I bet your biggest fear is they’ll change their minds and call you off the case.” Nathan said with a smile knowing how Jill’s brain worked.

  “Exactly. I’m pleased my former office thought of me, and I don’t have anything that has to be completed tomorrow. Sure, there’s stuff to do around this winery, but it can wait a day while I go play sleuth.”

  “Okay, that’s another thing to toast to. I’d grab a ride with you, as I need to stop by the university, but you might be gone all day, and I’d get stuck waiting for you to return. Besides, you’re probably leaving at six, which is way too early for me to head out. Maybe in the future, we can coordinate our drives. So what’s the case?”

  “I don’t have many details, and I was tempted to Google my questions, but instead, I decided to wait until I get to Sacramento.”

  “Why do they want you to sleuth?” Nathan asked as he hadn’t ever seen Jill agree to work a case with so little information about the victim.

  “They have found three men by themselves in three wildfires across the state. I think they want me to determine if there’s any connection.”

  “Aren’t they likely connected?”

  “Not necessarily. You would be surprised by the number of homeless or what I’ll call hermit men, who eventually die in a wildfire. Often, they drink and smoke while near a lot of tinder. If you’ve been living on the streets awhile, your health may not be the best, and you may move too slow to avoid a fire. They also start fires to stay warm, and sparks from the fire can quickly become a brushfire.”

  “So, what do you have to examine? Is it just a burnt-out corpse?” Nathan asked with both curiosity and revulsion.

  “Actually, we humans don’t burn very well as we’re too full of water. A crematory will reduce you to ashes at over fourteen-hundred degrees. Most brushfires don’t get close to that temperature. Back to your question, the clothes may burn off, and there may be a few second-degree burns on the face, and the hair will likely burn off. The face should be identifiable, and fingerprints are usually intact. Victims don’t die from the fire; they die from smoke inhalation or super-heated air. A forest fire can get as hot as a crematory after it has picked up the dry brush and become larger, but it wouldn’t be that hot at the start of the fire, which should be where the victim is found.”

  “You have a brain full of weird information. I think that for most humans, dying by being burned alive is a terrifying thought. Isn’t that the source of your fear about fire?”

  “It is, but unless you’re tied at the stake on top of a bonfire, the smoke will render you unconscious before you feel the heat of the fire. Let’s go back to discussing your new job; our thoughts are too gruesome on an otherwise excellent evening.”

  Chapter 3

  As planned, Jill found herself pulling into the parking lot of her former employer right on schedule. She could see the lot was almost full and knew her ex-colleagues were working around the clock to collect evidence from the remains of the bus crash victims. These had an added layer of being a tour group visiting from a foreign country, so there was more paperwork to move the bodies home. Rather than having a badge to get her inside, she stopped and talked to an intercom outside the door to the building, and soon she was buzzed inside.

  She approached the desk where an assistant sat whom she recognized from her days on the job.

  “Nice to see you this morning, Dr. Quint. I was notified that you were coming. Let me get Dr. Galloway here to escort you.”

  A door opened on the far side of the lobby, and out came Jennifer Galloway.

  The assistant smiled and said, “I was just about to buzz you.”

  “I remember from my time working with Dr. Quint that she was a stickler for being on time, and I can see you haven’t changed,” Jennifer said, holding out her hand to shake Jill’s.

  “Sorry, I can’t help myself. It’s my little bit of OCD. I must be on time.”

  Jennifer escorted Jill behind the locked door. She paused to say, “I’m grateful as we’re overloaded right now and appreciate your help. I have permission to hire you for this case as a per diem if that’s okay with you. We budgeted up to eighty hours of your time. Just submit timesheets to me, and we’ll get you paid. Is that good?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t sure I was getting paid. You asked for my help and I came.”

  “I’m just glad you were available.”

  “Actually, your timing was exquisite. I had just finished putting my grape harvest into barrels for aging about an hour before you called. If you had called the day before, I would have been unavailable as the grapes are time-sensitive. Speaking of which, here’s your bottle of Moscato,” Jill said, pulling the bottle out of her backpack.

  “You have such a glamorous life. You’re a PI, and you harvest grapes and make my favorite wine. Can I live your life?”

  Jill laughed and said, “Someday, yes. Dare I tell you I also have the perfect partner and a wonderful dog? However, when you called, I was sitting in the heat with broken fingernails, sweat matted hair, and dirt and dust all over me. I was trying to find the energy to climb my stairs to take a shower.”

  Jennifer laughed and said, “I miss you here in the crime lab. No matter how tense the situation, you could always find something to make us laugh or feel good about our work.”

  “So tell me what you need help with.”

  “We have three men reportedly dying at wildfire scenes about two weeks apart. Each man was found after a wildfire was extinguished. Apparently, the fire personnel walk through the burn area to ensure there are no remains left behind. Each man has been found within a burn zone. Each man had a mobile phone and a wallet on their person. They died from smoke inhalation in all three cases, though the first man also had benzodiazepines on board. All three men were in the thirties or forties, had drunk alcohol just before their death. None appeared to be homeless or own land in the immediate area around the wildfire.”

  “So the victims are all a little too similar for their deaths to appear to be accidental, but you have no evidence of homicide. They had alcohol on board, but probably not enough to make them unaware of the fire. You want me to find out if they’re linked.”

  “Exactly!”

  “I can do that. Did you call the neighboring states to see if they had any similar cases?”

  “I didn’t, and that’s a good idea. It might help confirm if this is just the law of the averages or something really sinister.”

  “Are all three victims here?” Jill asked.

  “No, but all the forensic evidence is. The latest victim is here, but the other two were processed through Kern and Fresno counties. I believe the remains were already released as the oldest case is about four weeks old. We wouldn’t have noticed the connection among the three cases except that an insurance adjuster named Jack called us up to say that this was the third male victim he knew of in the fires he inspected for insurance claims. He worked the insurance claims for all three. He was the only common factor among different fire departments, cops, and medical examiners.”

  “Could he be a suspect?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, and that’s why we need your special skills here. I’ve got a computer for you to look at the results. You’re welcome to examine the latest vict
im as he’s in our storage. We’re still processing the bus accident. The autopsy room is full, so I’ve arranged a computer in our conference room. You can call me to let me know if you need to examine our latest victim once you work your way through the evidence. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds perfect. I left my autopsy kit out in the car, but I brought my forms that I use to track other cases, so I should be able to provide you with a report of my findings. I’m going to call Oregon and Washington to see if they have had any fire victims. Do I have your permission to say I represent this office?”

  “Of course. You may already know those people up north from your time here.”

  “I don’t remember contacting them about any case, but I’ll admit my brain thinks differently now that I don’t have to focus on completing all of the right paperwork.”

  “Again, can I have your life?” Jennifer asked, and when Jill shook her head no with a smile, she added, “We have lunch being delivered. I’ll notify you when it arrives if you want to join us.”

  “I’d love to, thanks.”

  They arrived at the conference room, entered the room, and approached the computer. Jill followed the instructions for access, and soon she was bringing up the files related to the case. Jennifer nodded and left to return to her crew in the autopsy room.

  Jill settled in to read the materials in front of her and think about these cases. After the first pass, she looked up the names of who she thought might be responsible in Oregon and Washington for similar incident reports and made a few calls. She came up empty-handed as no one could remember a single man dying suspiciously in any brush fire. A search of the database verified this. She was about to check all counties in California when she got a text about lunch. It was laid out in a break room that Jill remembered well. She was reacquainted with the staff she had worked with and met new members of the team. They asked about her new life, and she caught up with theirs. Soon it was time to get back to work. Mostly she was holding her fears and nightmares about the dangers of fire at bay.