Twisted Path

by Melissa F. Miller

  “Now, son, you know the prosecutor’s not gonna ask you anything you can’t handle. She said you’re already on the witness list.”

  “I’m on standby for later this week. She seems to think this’ll be a quick trial.”

  Sonny clasped his back. “If you ask me, too quick. Who ever heard of a murder trial going to court in less than six months? Well, it’ll be even quicker now. She can put in your testimony as to the cause of death today while she’s got you on the stand.” He started toward the elevator. “Don’t forget to brush your hair.”

  Bodhi absently ran his hand through his unruly mop, as he watched Sonny walk away. An uneasy tightness clenched his stomach.

  The present day

  * * *

  “Earth to Bodhi. I asked if you remember the Tenley case?”

  He blinked to bring himself back to the present and his own warm living room. The scent of his blood orange candle overtook the formaldehyde that he could have sworn had filled his nose.

  He inhaled, shaking off the memory of Sonny’s odd demand. Then he met Saul’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember Raina Noor.”

  “Don’t suppose you’ve caught the news lately?”

  “Can’t say I have.” He smiled but there was no apology in it.

  His lack of media consumption was, as the software engineers say, a feature, not a bug. He didn’t own a television. He had virtually no online presence—no social media profiles, no online news subscriptions, and an email account he checked sporadically at best.

  Saul mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like ‘luddite.’ “Do you remember her husband?”

  “Giles. He was an associate professor at Pitt. In the history department, I think.”

  “Your memory truly is elephantine.”

  “Doesn’t that just mean large? I’m not sure that’s the compliment you think it is.”

  “Take it as one. Anyway, last week, while you were canoodling with that police chief out in Iowa—”

  “Illinois.”

  Saul shrugged. “Same difference.”

  “Really, not.”

  He was about to launch into a description of Onatah, Illinois’ distinctive charms, while skirting the issue of Chief Bette Clark’s own considerable charms, but Saul’s expression stopped him.

  “Professor Noor was murdered.”

  Bodhi was silent for a long moment while he processed the information. Another memory took hold as the image of Giles Noor developed in his mind’s eye—grainy at first, then with more clarity.

  * * *

  At the trial, the prosecutor had called Noor to testify immediately after Bodhi. Out of respect, Bodhi had stayed in the courtroom to listen. Paying witness to Raina and Giles Noor’s life together.

  Giles was a tall, angular man, stooped with grief. His rounded shoulders made him seem old and frail even though he was only in his early thirties. His faded blue eyes were red and watery throughout his testimony, and his voice quavered. He’d clutched a snowy white handkerchief between his hands while he spoke, twisting it and wringing it repeatedly. But he never broke down and cried. Not until later.

  After Noor testified, the judge called for a recess. Bodhi stopped in the men’s room on his way back to the office and ran into the overwrought widower. His handkerchief, wet through, rested on the metal shelf above the sink.

  Bodhi met his tortured eyes in the mirror and held his gaze.

  “It’s hard to be the one who’s left behind. May your memories be a blessing.”

  “Thank you, Doctor King,” he stammered.

  He nodded a goodbye. As a Buddhist, he found condolences difficult to convey with the right speech. But Saul had taught him the traditional Jewish words, and he found them helpful. Although death comes for us all, that didn’t take away the grief it left in its wake. It felt right to wish the mourning husband ease and joy in recalling his wife.

  Noor called after him. “That bastard going away for life will be a blessing.”

  Bodhi didn’t respond. But Noor got his wish. Raina Noor’s murderer ultimately pleaded guilty and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

  * * *

  He blinked away the memory and looked across the room at Saul. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. Well, you haven’t heard the half of it,” Saul replied.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, the reason I need your help is this case is a doozy.”

  He waited for Saul to go on. At this point, all his cases were doozies. He’d retired as a pathologist and now consulted when a responding coroner or medical examiner believed he or she was out of his or her depth. He wasn’t called on when the cause of death was clear. Or remotely discernable.

  Saul placed his teacup on the low coffee table and leaned forward. “The investigators recovered DNA at the scene, and there was a match in the system.”

  “That sounds like the opposite of a doozy, Saul. More like a slam dunk.”

  “It’s a match for Damon Tenley.”

  Bodhi abandoned his teacup, too. “Tenley’s out?”

  “Nope. He’s serving a life sentence in Fayette.”

  “So … how?”

  “That’s what I need you to tell me, hotshot.”

  Bodhi shook his head. “Come on, Saul. I’m a pathologist, same as you. I can tell you the cause of death, the approximate time, and maybe the weapon. But this biology stuff is way out of my wheelhouse. You know that.”

  “Sure. But I know how and when the professor was killed. And the weapon the killer used.” Saul fell silent, waiting.

  After a long moment, Bodhi took the bait. “How?”

  “Blunt force trauma. Bludgeoned to death in his bed. With a bronze paperweight.”

  “Same as Raina.”

  “Same as Raina.”

  They stared at each other. Bodhi shrugged.

  “What do you want me to say? That it’s creepy? Sure. But you need expertise I don’t have.”

  “No. I need you.”

  “Even if I had the ability to figure out your DNA problem—which I don’t—my involvement would be a bad idea. I worked the original case. If the evidence was contaminated then … no, Saul, it would be a conflict.”

  “You know the lab’s contamination rate is legendary for being so low. Those folks are careful. They always have been, even when Sonny was running the show. For all his faults, and they were legion, he ran a pristine operation.”

  Bodhi lowered his chin and pinned Saul with a long look. “Oh?”

  “Aside from the whole Wally thing, I mean.”

  “The Wally thing never would’ve happened if Sonny ran a tight ship. A pathologist who destroys autopsy records to further his mistress’s political ambitions? That’s a loose, leaky ship type of event.”

  Saul tossed his hands in the air. “Ancient history. I mean, I know he tried to kill your friend, but … water under the bridge, right?”

  “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  “Aren’t you even curious?”

  “Not really. The way I see it, someone screwed up six years ago. Or more likely someone screwed up the results from the Giles Noor scene. They mixed up the samples with the old ones or something. And that, my friend, is your ship, not Sonny’s. I don’t want any part of destroying your reputation.”

  Saul’s nostrils flared. “My reputation’s not at risk. I stand by my office’s results. Then and now. There was no contamination, no incompetence, Bodhi. Damon Tenley killed Raina Noor. And somehow he’s responsible for the murder of her husband. It’s crazy, I know. But DNA evidence doesn’t lie.”

  Bodhi sighed. “I can’t help you.”

  “Bodhi—”

  Saul’s frustration was evident in his voice. Bodhi couldn’t resist trying to cheer him up with one of the man’s own stupid jokes. “What did the Buddhist coroner put on the death certificate as the cause of death?”

  “Life. Ha, ha. I need you to figure out how Tenley’s DNA ended up at Noor’s
murder.”

  Bodhi watched a fat spider meander up the cracked plaster wall near the window.

  Saul gritted his teeth. “Did you hear me? You’re the best at solving unsolvable puzzles. And you’re an outsider. Squeaky clean, not politically beholden to anyone.”

  Bodhi stared at the spider as it tried and failed to crawl through the closed window. He crossed the room, pushed up the window, and popped the screen out. The arachnid paused, the pedipalps in front of its legs wriggling at the sensation of the cold air, and then crept toward freedom. He watched it mince through the open window then replaced the screen and shut the window.

  Only then did he turn back to his old friend. “I honestly can’t.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Remember Tory Thurmont, the serologist?”

  “Sure. She’s actually still in the office. She’s our senior court-qualified DNA analyst.”

  “Yeah, well, she had the flu the day she was supposed to testify at Tenley’s trial. And Sonny made me fill in.”

  Saul blanched. Then, like a dog shaking itself dry, he rejected the implication as if it were nothing more than water. “Okay, that’s less than ideal, I’ll grant you. But there’s no question Tenley killed Raina Noor. He confessed.”

  “Sure, but … bringing me in on this case is an invitation to reopen the original case, and you know it. The defense bar will be crawling all over you.”

  “Forget about Raina Noor for a minute. Focus on the new murder. The evidence shows Tenley murdered Giles. I don’t know how. But he pulled off the impossible crime. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him get away with it.”

  Did Saul have any idea how unhinged he sounded?

  “I don’t know how I could help. You know what I do. The dead tell me their stories. This is … different from that.”

  “This is different from everything. That’s why I need you. You won’t approach it as some kind of paint-by-numbers exercise. You’ll do … things. Things that wouldn’t occur to the rest of us.” He flapped his hands in frustration.

  Bodhi focused on his breath. Saul waited. The silence stretched between them. Bodhi wished he were the spider, crawling down the facade of the building, free of the stickier webs formed by human interaction, connection, and history. But he wasn’t. He was the fly, and there was no point in pretending otherwise.

  “I’m not a wizard, Saul. I’m a pathologist.”

  Saul screwed up his face. “You’re kind of a wizard, too.”

  To his surprise, a small laugh escaped from his throat. He sighed. “Okay.”

  “I knew you’d do it.”

  “Don’t start celebrating just yet. You know if I investigate this, I’m going to follow the facts wherever they lead—”

  “Sure, sure. Of course.”

  “Even if they lead me to conclude that someone in your office screwed up. Even if they lead me to conclude that I screwed up years ago. Or that you screwed up.”

  “I understand, Bodhi.”

  “Do you? Really think about it, Saul.”

  Saul locked eyes with him and nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to look into this if I thought you’d pull your punches. I’m not stupid. I know the press and the public defender’s office are gonna have a field day with this. I want an independent investigation that will leave no doubt about the integrity of the medical examiner’s office and its results. That’s why I came to you. I know you’ll put the truth before anything, even our friendship.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Listen, there’s an all hands meeting tomorrow. I’ll messenger over the files this afternoon so you can at least skim them beforehand, but don’t worry about getting fully up to speed.”

  “Understood.”

  He also understood the part Saul wasn’t saying—his role at this meeting would be to listen, not speak. Consulting for the medical examiner’s office was one thing; sharing his thoughts with the police department and the prosecutor’s office wasn’t in the cards.

  “It’ll be just like old times, us working together.” Saul stood. “I better get going. I’ll send over a consulting contract with the files.”

  He rose and stretched out his hand. Saul shook it, then pulled him in for a hug. Bodhi patted his shoulder and walked him to the door.

  Just like old times.

  He waved goodbye from the porch and tried to ignore the knot forming in his gut, an echo of the unease he’d felt six years ago before Tenley’s trial.

  Chapter Four

  One day later

  * * *

  As Bodhi followed Saul into the vast conference room, he surveyed the people gathered around the elongated oval table. Some faces he knew from his days working for the Allegheny County Medical Examiner’s Office. Some were new.

  Saul crossed the room and shook hands with a tall redhead wearing a well-tailored dove gray suit and a string of chunky pearls. They exchanged pleasantries, and he gestured for Bodhi to join them by the window.

  “Meghan, this is Dr. Bodhi King, formerly of my office. He’s the forensics consultant I told you about.”

  The woman smiled and extended her hand. Her grip was firm, and her warm skin was smooth and soft. “A pleasure.” It sounded almost as if she meant it.

  “Bodhi, Meghan Ford is the Allegheny County District Attorney,” Saul continued with the introductions.

  “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Ford,” Bodhi said.

  “Please, call me Meghan. Based on everything Saul’s told me, we’re lucky to have your services on this one.”

  “I hope I can prove helpful. From what Saul’s told me, you folks have an unusual situation on your hands.”

  She laughed throatily. “That’s putting it mildly.” She waved a hand over the coffee, tea, and pastry set up. “Help yourself to something to drink and nibble on. We’re just waiting on the homicide detectives.”

  Bodhi bypassed the danishes and fixed himself a cup of green tea. He took the nearest open seat at the table. Saul passed his hands on the back of the chair to his left and continued chatting with the district attorney about some benefit dinner. Bodhi turned to his right and smiled at the dark, slight woman picking apart a roll.

  “Long time, no see, Tory.”

  Victoria Thurmont jerked her head up and blinked at him from behind her cat’s eye glasses.

  “Bodhi?”

  The shock in the forensic biologist’s voice surprised him. He assumed Saul would’ve told his own people that he’d brought their former colleague in as a consultant. Evidently, he hadn’t. He wondered why.

  “The one and only,” he cracked.

  “What … I didn’t realize …”

  “I’m consulting,” he said to save her from stumbling over the words.

  “Oh. I see. It’s nice to see you.” She mustered a thin smile before returning to her task of ripping chunks of bread from the roll and sprinkling them over the napkin she’d laid out on the table in front of her with no apparent plan to eat any of it.

  She was nervous. But why? She had performed the DNA analysis for the Tenley prosecution.

  It would be logical to worry. Even if she stood behind her conclusions, she had to know every step she’d taken in the case was about to be picked apart and pored over … much like the bread she was in the process of methodically dismantling.

  A woman wearing a dark pantsuit and a tall, sturdy African-American man rushed through the door. The man had thick, close-cropped hair shot through with gray. He wore a pair of reading glasses low on his nose and a tie that was askew, its knot loosened.

  “Sorry we’re late, folks,” the man rumbled in a voice Bodhi recognized immediately.

  Detective Gilbert from the Homicide Squad seemed to have aged more than the rest of the players in the room. Occupational hazard, maybe?

  Bodhi eyed the other detective but couldn’t place her.

  “Detectives,” Meghan bobbed her head in greeting. She moved to stand behi
nd the seat next to Saul’s and waited for their attention.

  The murmured conversations died, and everyone turned to her as the tardy detectives claimed the closest chairs—near the door, but far from the food and drinks. The female detective’s eyes flitted longingly to the coffee. Bodhi watched her calculating whether it was worth the distraction she’d cause if she passed in front of the district attorney to get herself a cup. She caught him watching her and gave him a wry, one-shouldered shrug.

  He smiled. He wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but he knew a few. Being in a room with coffee just out of reach would be akin to the torture of Tantalus for more than one of his friends.

  Oblivious to the detective’s yearning for caffeine, Meghan addressed the room. “We’re all here, so let’s get started. I trust you all know me. I’d like the rest of you to introduce yourselves, share the organizations you represent, and briefly explain your role in this matter.” She smiled coolly, took her seat, and sipped her coffee.

  A cheerful Asian man to her left stood. “I’ll start. I’m Roland Lee. I’m an ADA working under Meghan. I second-chaired the Tenley prosecution, and I’ll be handling any prosecution that might result from the investigation into Giles Noor’s murder.”

  “Second chair? Where’s Annette Morris?” Saul asked.

  Morris had been the lead attorney during the Tenley prosecution. She was the one who’d prepped Bodhi for trial and had questioned him on the stand. Bodhi had only the faintest recollection of Lee as a silent presence by her side, furiously scribbling notes and handing her exhibits.

  “Annette’s moved on to more lucrative pastures. She’s the general counsel for a pet food company in Tennessee,” Meghan explained.

  Lee bobbed his head. “But, no worries. I was involved every step of the way. And I pulled Annette’s notes out of storage.”

  Detective Gilbert stood. “I’m Burton Gilbert with the PBP Homicide Squad. I was the lead investigator on the Raina Noor murder, and I’m spearheading the investigation into Giles Noor’s murder, as well.” He nodded toward the woman sitting next to him.