“Lucky for us Eiser had the murder book on his desk. He’s got a copy of the autopsy report in here,” he said, tapping the cover of a black loose-leaf binder.
Jonelle perked up. “Murder book? That means—”
“That means that, yes, this is being treated as a suspicious death, possibly a homicide.” Tankersley sat down, opened the book, and silently thumbed through several pages.
Here we go again. “Can you please tell me what you’re reading?”
“I’m not supposed to reveal this to civilians, but since you’ve got a vested interest in the case and you’re Marvin’s niece, I’ll give you a few basics. This information doesn’t leave this room, understand?”
Jonelle managed a weak, “Sure. What happens in homicide, stays in homicide.”
Tankersley gave her a peculiar look before continuing. “Let’s see. Hmm. Report says Cornelius Manross had blunt force trauma on the back of his head, but that didn’t cause enough damage to kill him.”
“Hit on the head with what? Does it say?”
“Undetermined. A large object. Something with round edges, although there was dirt deep in the wound.” Tankersley paused and turned to Jonelle. “Could’ve been a pipe or a bat of some kind.”
“What about a tree branch?”
Jonelle thought back to her hike through the woods, up to the far corner of the cemetery where Manross’ body was found.
Tankersley looked up from the book. “That’s a possibility.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “No gunshot or stab wounds. Samples of blood and tissue have been sent to toxicology. It could take weeks before the results come back.”
Jonelle’s heart sank. Weeks? She didn’t have weeks.
Tankersley flipped through a few more pages.
“Anything else in there you could tell me?” Pulling information out of the detective was like pulling an anchor through quicksand.
“The only other thing the examiner notes is that the man appeared very healthy.”
“Except for being dead,” Jonelle said. The look on Tankersley’s face made her regret saying those words. “Sorry.”
Tankersley resumed reading from the report. “The victim had good weight, low body fat, no obvious signs of hypertension or liver disease, both common ailments in African Americans.” Tankersley frowned. “Well, now. This is interesting.”
The detective looked at Jonelle for a long moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of how much more he should tell her. “Says here there is a suspicious needle mark on the right side of his neck, near the carotid artery. The M.E. noticed it when he was checking the wound on the back of Manross’ head.”
Trying hard, but failing to keep the excitement out of her voice, Jonelle replied, “That fits with the syringe I found. Do you think—”
“I think,” Tankersley said, “that I’ll turn over everything you found to Detective Eiser. It’s his case. I’ll leave your name and number with him. He’ll probably want to talk to you.”
Jonelle’s heart sank. She didn’t know this Eiser. He would have no reason to give her any more information. She still didn’t know who killed Manross, or why, but she was sure it had some connection to Del’s missing body.
The slow pace of the police investigative process was agony. Too much longer would give whoever had Del’s body plenty of time to completely dispose of it, if they hadn’t already done so. In spite of her assurance to Tankersley that she would let the police handle Del’s case, she needed answers now.
“There’s nothing else in here you need to know, so I’m gonna put this back on Eiser’s desk.” Tankersley closed the book and turned off his computer.
Jonelle nodded, afraid that if she spoke, it would reveal her disappointment.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she managed.
“I’ll be right back.”
After Tankersley left, Jonelle opened her purse, pulled out her cellphone, and checked for messages. The last one was from Adrienne. She returned her best friend’s call.
“What’s going on?” Jonelle asked. She listened for a few moments.
“Tell you what,” she said, “I’m coming out there. No, I’m not gonna do anything. All I want is for you to tell me more about this doctor and give me his office number. It’s late. He’s probably not there, so I’ll just leave him a note saying I’d like to meet with him.”
Adrienne’s annoyance with that plan came through the phone.
“Listen up. I’ll just write something like, I’m interested in a career change, and I’d like to talk to him about med school. I don’t care if he is an S.O.B. I can handle him. See you in a few.”
Jonelle disconnected, stood, and headed for the door.
On her way out she noticed Tankersley leaning against a cubicle, talking to Detective Burton.
“I’m taking off now. I’ve monopolized far too much of your time, so I’m going home and digest everything you’ve told me. All I ask is that you keep me in the loop.”
Tankersley smiled. “I’ll do my best. The department will take care of things from here. I’ll talk to the lieutenant tomorrow—see who’s available to investigate what happened to your husband’s body.”
“Thanks. Appreciate whatever you can do.” She turned to Detective Burton. “Nice meeting you.”
A huge grin spread over Burton’s face. “Pleasure was all mine.”
Tankersley returned the murder book to the desk next to Burton.
“Wait a sec and I’ll walk out with you, Jonelle,” Tankersley said.
She held up her hand. “That’s okay. I can find my way out.”
“All right. I’d better straighten up a bit before I go home.” His eyes softened. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Sure you’ll be okay?”
Jonelle nodded. “I’ll be fine. You’ve been really great.”
“I’ll call you if I find out anything else.”
Jonelle waved her goodbyes to the detectives, made her way out of the office, and quickly left the building.
The night air, though still warm, felt good on her skin. Fireflies danced about the bushes planted around the perimeter of the police department’s parking lot. She thought back to her childhood and tried to remember if fireflies meant a sign of something good, or did they predict a more sinister outcome?
On the way back to her Jeep, Jonelle considered the ramifications of going against her promise to Tankersley to let the police handle Del’s case.
“I’m just going to stop by this doctor’s office and leave him a note. That’s all,” she said, trying hard, and failing, to convince herself she was not breaking a promise.
On the phone, Adrienne had said it was possible the doctor might still be at the university.
Jonelle hoped he was still there. She desperately wanted to find out what, if anything, this doctor knew about her husband’s missing corpse.
CHAPTER 29
Jonelle strode over to the only window in Adrienne’s walled office. The room, barely big enough for the six-drawer wooden desk, two guest chairs and file cabinet, looked out onto the staff parking lot. Six sodium lights ringed the lot, but only two worked. While she could easily see her vehicle, the rest of the lot was thrown into deep shadow. Jonelle turned and retraced her steps.
“Will you sit down already? You’re making me dizzy,” Adrienne said, adding two packs of sugar to her mug of coffee. She tentatively took a sip, grimaced at the bitter taste, and added another packet.
Jonelle plopped down onto one of the brown leather chairs, as if playing a game of musical chairs and the music had just stopped. She immediately got up again and resumed pacing.
Adrienne groaned and pointed to Jonelle’s empty cup on the desk. “That’s it. No more caffeine for you.”
“Can’t help it,” Jonelle said, stopping in front of the Scandinavian-style desk. She glanced up and to the right of Adrienne. A print of Gordon Parks’ American Gothic hung next to a color photograph of Barack Obama being sworn in as the fo
rty-fourth president.
“All the way over here I’ve been wondering about this doctor.” Jonelle sat across from Adrienne.
“If I thought you’d come racing over here like you were going to a ninety percent off everything sale at Macy’s, I would’ve waited until morning to tell you what Cathy Cho told me.”
“That’s not the only reason I rushed over here,” Jonelle said. “You’ve got a bad feeling about this guy, too. Am I right?”
“Yes, but for different reasons than you do. Just because he treats his students as if his runway is too short for takeoff, doesn’t mean the man is a grave robber for crissakes.”
Jonelle shook her head. “I’m not saying that, either. Not yet, anyway. I just want to know everything you know about this doctor.”
Adrienne sighed dramatically and swiveled around to the printer sitting on a low metal file cabinet in the corner behind her desk and retrieved some papers.
“While I was waiting for you, I pulled some information off of his evaluation sheets.” She pulled reading glasses from inside the desk and placed them on the end of her nose.
“You’ve got access to those? Can I see?” Jonelle held out her hand.
Adrienne ignored the gesture. “Yes, I do and no, you can’t. The evaluation sheets are processed here in Administration. We flag the ones that have what we consider serious comments. That is, those worth investigating. Copies are made and forwarded to the dean.” Adrienne shuffled some papers and began reading.
“Hammond got high ratings for his teaching of the subject but low marks overall. Most of the students who commented said he often made bizarre or peculiar comments in class.”
Jonelle stared at Adrienne. “Were they more specific?”
“A few were.” Reading from the papers in front of her, Adrienne continued. “For example, this person said Dr. Hammond frequently rambled on about the difficulty of finding a good female-to-male body ratio and the abundance of white, as opposed to non-white, cadavers. This student said he wouldn’t have objected so much if the doctor hadn’t kept repeating that same mantra over and over in just about every class session.
“And on this one, the student complained that one minute Hammond was imploring them to respect the body and the next minute he was leaning over the cadaver, dropping cigarette ashes in the cavity.” Adrienne stopped reading. She looked up and saw the tightness around Jonelle’s mouth.
“You know as well as I do we have a ‘no smoking’ rule in all of our buildings. When the dean got wind of that remark, he called Hammond into his office. Hammond denied smoking in class. He said this particular student was failing and was probably just pissed off. Nothing was done because nobody else in the class corroborated her story.”
“Maybe they were afraid to,” Jonelle added.
Adrienne shrugged and read further. “One young lady from Nigeria claimed Hammond called her at her apartment and asked if she had relatives in the area.”
“What!” Jonelle gasped and leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair. “Hold it. Relatives? Why did he need to know that?”
Adrienne rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. What we do know is that it scared her, so she went to the dean. Hammond brushed it off. Claims he was asking because the school needed more African students.”
Adrienne shuffled through more papers. “There are several more complaints like Cathy Cho’s. They accuse him of making certain ethnic students uncomfortable by saying he wished he had more cadavers to study from their particular group.”
“Lovely man, this Dr. Hammond.” Jonelle settled back in her chair. “Is he trying to say that us black folk have different insides?”
“Not just blacks,” Adrienne said, gathering the papers and depositing them in her desk drawer, “it also appears from these sheets that he has issues with non-whites in general. Racial comments aside, every year about half of his Gross Anatomy students fail the course, most of them white, by the way, but that’s not all that unusual.”
“It’s not? The failure rate is fifty percent, and you’re saying that’s normal?”
“Yep.” Adrienne nodded. “Gross Anatomy is a very intense course. There’s really no way for a student to prepare for what it’s like to take a scalpel and cut into human flesh. A few drop out at this point, realizing they don’t have what it takes to become a surgeon. The rest that remain do fine, until near the end of the course when the face is finally exposed. Several students have problems with that.”
The idea that a medical doctor believed that different races possessed dissimilar anatomies made Jonelle wonder. That, coupled with the notion that kids who choose medicine as a career had problems with basic anatomy also made her pause. She reached over and picked up one of the seven snow globes on Adrienne’s desk. Each globe depicted a different dwarf from Disney’s Snow White. Jonelle shook Bashful and watched the mini blizzard glide past his oversized ears.
“What you’re saying is that most of the students didn’t realize the body was once a living, breathing, human being until they uncovered the face? What the hell did they think they were dissecting all this time?”
Adrienne watched as Jonelle shook the globe a few more times before she responded. “When I started working here, a few of us got a mini-tour of the lab. The first thing to hit you when you walk down the hallway is the smell. It’s everywhere. The odor seems to ooze from the walls. The second thing you’re aware of is, when you enter the lab itself, you see all of those forms under the sheets. It feels like you’ve just been propelled into some kind of horror movie and soon all the bodies are going to rise up and come after you. It almost freaked me out, but I stayed cool.” She smiled weakly. “You know, wouldn’t do for a Baltimore babe to lose it in front of everybody.”
Jonelle made a face. “Oh yeah, right. You’ve got that reputation to protect.”
“Anyway,” Adrienne continued, “when the instructor was sure we wouldn’t lose our breakfast, he pulled up one of the sheets. I saw the face was covered with some kind of cloth. He said the cloth stays on until the students are ready to dissect the head, which comes near the end of the semester.”
Jonelle thought a moment. She put down Bashful and picked up Doc and shook him. “I had no idea,” she said. “So, you add to that Hammond’s general weirdness and I guess it’s difficult to get through the class. And, yet, students like Cathy Cho keep signing up.”
Adrienne drained her coffee cup and wiped the inside with several paper napkins. That done, she placed it on the corner of her desk. “No doubt about it, the man is a brilliant teacher,” she said. “He’s lectured all over the world on behalf of the university and brought in tons of grant money. Plus, he’s tenured. The university can’t let him go just because the students don’t personally like him.”
Jonelle put Doc down, reached for Grumpy, thought better of it, and took her hand away. “You said there were complaints about his smoking in the lab. Isn’t that dangerous? I read somewhere that formaldehyde in certain concentrations is flammable. Can’t the school discipline him because of that?”
Adrienne sighed. “Not when he denies it. The only thing he ever admitted to was smoking in the hall. Don’t say it,” Adrienne said. “I know it’s still not allowed. After the last incident he agreed to smoke outside of the building.”
Jonelle stood and started pacing again. She fiddled with her handcuff and pistol necklace. One of the problems she had with university employees was their tendency to circle the wagons whenever one of their own got into trouble. “Why didn’t anyone ask security to look into this when the smoking complaints started? If he was endangering the students, not to mention the whole building, we could’ve stepped in and done something about it.”
She stopped moving around the office, turned and stood in front of Adrienne. Her face brightened as the beginnings of an idea formed in her mind. “Know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need to talk to the good doctor. I’ll do some investigating on my own.”
Adrienne didn�
��t reply. Thin, manicured fingers straightened the snow globes, and put them back in a straight line across the edge of the desk. She leaned back in her chair, reached over, and fiddled with another piece of paper. After a few moments, Adrienne picked up the sheet, read a few lines in silence and put the paper down again.
Jonelle stared at her friend’s movements. “What’s that?” she asked, indicating the paper and sitting back down in her chair.
“There’s something else that I find a bit more disturbing. Not sure I should tell you this though, because I don’t have any proof Hammond is directly involved.”
“Spill it. Listen, I want to know everything you know. It may help me find out what’s going on.”
Adrienne rubbed her fingers over her face, careful not to smudge her mascara. “Okay. Remember what I told you Cathy Cho said about the number of bodies the students worked on in class?”
Jonelle nodded.
“We have a company that procures cadavers for us from people who agreed to donate to the school. That’s the way we receive cadavers for the classes. I pulled the invoice for his class, and this semester we received eleven bodies, seven males, four females. Yet Cathy was saying there are about eighteen bodies or so in his lab. If that’s true, where the hell are these extra bodies coming from?”
“Good question. That’s why I want to go over there and have a look around.”
Adrienne turned to her computer, hit a few keys, read something on the screen, and scribbled on a yellow sticky pad. “Here’s Hammond’s office number. Give him a call in the morning and set up a meeting to tour his lab. I can’t guarantee he’ll agree to it, though.” She shuddered. “The very idea that he could be going around digging up bodies out of their graves gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
Jonelle took the piece of paper and glanced at the number. “Thanks. For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure he didn’t dig up the bodies himself. I do think he may be the mastermind behind all this, though, and Manross, Jorge, and Calvin did the actual dirty work.” She put the note in her bag.
“Calvin? You mean that creep we saw at the saloon? Maybe he’s the one behind all this, instead of Hammond.” Adrienne sniffed. “Seems like the type.”
Burial Plot (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 1) Page 20