Retribution

by T. K. Walls

  According to Mark, the sheriff had requested he call him back. He had recently employed the medical student as his intern to cover the morgue when he was out of town. The morgue was rarely busy, but someone had to be available for intakes. Medical students and residents made great employees. Most needed the money, and they were usually accountable and excellent with records. The intakes that required an autopsy were usually from car accidents or unexpected deaths from one of the local hospitals. Occasionally autopsies were arranged by families who suspected medical malpractice. Regardless, all of these were managed Monday through Friday, during normal business hours. Autopsies were not performed on the weekends. Mark could easily handle natural-cause deaths, or even deaths the local police suspected resulted from other than natural causes, such as a suspected homicide. He knew how to collect samples for evidence. But when Mark called, Ryan could tell something was different about this body and this autopsy.

  “Hey, I am really sorry I have to bother you, Dr. Davis.” Mark’s voice was shaking with excitement. “The sheriff asked me to call you. He said you might want to come back. They found this guy floating on Hampton Beach. He didn’t have any identification, so I logged him in as a John Doe. He was wearing a wet suit, and at first, I thought he had probably drowned. However, his lungs are dry—I mean they don’t have any water in them! I already ran his labs, and so far nothing is unusual or abnormal. I think you should come back to do the autopsy. I don’t think this one can wait a week. The sheriff has already been here, but he isn’t here right now.”

  Mark was in his final year of medical school, waiting to find out where he would be going for his residency. Even at the sheriff’s request, he wouldn’t have suggested the pathologist leave his vacation on a whim. He paused, waiting for Ryan to answer. He suspected Ryan wouldn’t be happy to come back, if he came back at all.

  Ryan let out an audible sigh. “OK, Mark, I’ll come back. There had better be something to this John Doe, and he’d better not be a heart attack guy who died while scuba diving! Oh, and tell the sheriff—who I know is standing next to you—that he owes me for this one!” Ryan tried to sound irritated, but he gave it away when he laughed.

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s right here.” Mark continued talking excitedly. “Dr. Davis, seriously you have to see this guy. I don’t think he died at the beach or anywhere near the beach. This is going to sound crazy, but I think the wet suit was put on him after he died. In fact, I think this guy has been dead for a few days. The body is moderately swollen, but the wet suit isn’t stretched. If he died in the wet suit, the suit would have naturally stretched as the body bloated. But this wet suit is too large for the body, even with the bloating. Hell, it’s even too long for the guy! John Doe is about five feet, eight inches, and this suit is made for a much taller guy!”

  Ryan was now intently listening. Without even thinking, he had turned the car around and was driving back to the city.

  Max raised his sleepy head to look out the window as Ryan did a fast U-turn, and then looked back at Ryan. Patting the dog on the head, Ryan said, “Not today, big guy. We will go another time. The lake house isn’t going anywhere.”

  He hadn’t worked on a homicide or an interesting autopsy in years. He was bored with autopsies to determine if a physician or hospital was responsible for some elderly person’s death. Mark’s description had his mind racing, and despite his desire to leave town, his need to get out of town, this body spiked his curiosity, not to mention there was only one coastline in New Hampshire, and Hampton Beach was very small. He also knew that Mac would not have suggested his assistant call him if this one wasn’t going to be an interesting one. And truth be told, he was intrigued, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the morgue.

  Dr. Ryan Davis arrived at the morgue and quickly changed into scrubs. Mark had the body on the metal slab and the wet suit on a table next to the body. One glance and Ryan understood why Mark was excited. Even with the body bloating, the wet suit was obviously too large for this guy. But that wasn’t what was alarming. In the center of the guy’s chest were what looked like two characters branded into his skin: J followed by another J or the number 1.

  Ryan pointed to the guy’s chest and asked Mark, “What the hell is this, and where is the sheriff?”

  “Dr. Davis, first, the sheriff had to leave, told me to tell you he would be back in the morning, but you can call him if you need him.” Taking a deep breath, Mark continued, “OK, second, when I saw those marks, I knew the sheriff and you should see this as soon as possible. I think someone killed this guy! How else would those marks get there? It looks postmortem to me.”

  Ryan quietly examined the tissue surrounding the branded characters. He didn’t respond to Mark. He wanted to examine the body in silence. Using a flashlight, he closely examined the body. When he was done with the preliminary check, he motioned for Mark to come back over to the table. “Mark, did you get photos of the chest? We need a close-up of those marks too.”

  Mark nodded his head in understanding. “Yes, I took photos of the marks and several more of the body, and I logged them into evidence as required. I noted the marks were probably postmortem. He was wet, even with the wet suit on. He had some type of oil or lotion on his skin. I took samples of that too. I think whatever the substance is, it was used to make it easier to get the suit on this guy.”

  “Well, the body isn’t wet now. Did it dry, or did you clean it off?” Ryan checked the skin folds, looking for the substance Mark had found on the body.

  “I think maybe being exposed to air dried it, but I did get samples.” Not wanting to miss anything the coroner did, Mark stood opposite Ryan and intently watched as he completed his exam.

  “That’s OK if your sample wasn’t enough. The skin samples ought to indicate what the substance was, even if it dried on the body.” Ryan completed his examination of the skin folds and looked over at his assistant. “Hey, I am glad you called me. After a very quick preliminary exam of this poor guy, I agree with your observation that he didn’t drown. He was obviously placed in the wet suit after he died. Maybe oil or some other lubricant was used to help get him into the suit. Did you notice that the bloating of the body is not uniform? I would think the areas where the suit compressed the skin are where the bloating is less, and the areas that were looser are where the bloating is greater. Did you take photos of the body in the suit? Before you removed the suit?”

  “Yes, I did, Dr. Davis. I already downloaded the photos to the computer.” Mark showed Ryan the photos that were taken of the body before the suit was removed.

  “Mark, notice on the pictures where the suit is bunched up on certain parts of the body that don’t bend, like between the elbow and shoulder? Now look over at the body. Those areas where the suit would have bunched up are not uniformly bloated with the rest of the limbs. The tightness of the suit prevented the bloat. You’re correct: it looks like the suit was placed on the body after he died and probably after rigor set in too. No way did this guy put on that suit.”

  Ryan found himself excited to actually perform an autopsy that wasn’t a routine confirmation-of-death autopsy. “OK, Mark, great job. Let’s get started with this autopsy. Go ahead and turn on the recorder.”

  Ryan formally began the examination of the body. He turned it over to examine the back and the sides. He felt the back of the head and found what appeared to be the cause of death: a single gunshot wound entering the back of the skull. But as Ryan examined the entry site, he noticed the site lacked bleeding, the edges were well approximated, and the entry wound was small. “This guy was also shot postmortem, probably a small-caliber bullet,” he said. “We’ll get that out later.”

  He then performed the standard Y cut, and removed and weighed the organs. Nothing was unusual with the internal organs. He took sections of the liver for later analysis, along with blood and other tissue samples, including a sample of the tissue around the branded characters. So far nothing indicated a cause of death. The last organ to exami
ne was the brain. After removing the top of the skull, Ryan removed the brain, weighed it, and again took sections for analysis. He quickly located and removed a .22-caliber bullet, but it was obviously a postmortem wound.

  “Mark, from all appearances, this guy was seemingly healthy. Let’s get a look at the wet suit. When you examined the suit, did anything appear unusual besides the lubricant?”

  Mark cleared his throat, looked at the suit, and replied, “I only removed it and took pictures of it. I didn’t examine the whole suit. I did take samples of the substance, though.” He had been so engrossed in the body that the last thing he was thinking about was the wet suit.

  Ryan slowly began to examine the suit, starting with the zipper. He pulled the suit inside out to ensure every part of the interior was examined. “Mark, can you get the black light? I think there is something on the inner aspect of the back of the suit.”

  Mark brought the black light to Ryan, who slowly shone the light on the back of the suit as he started to examine the material. Ryan then took samples of a jelly-like substance that he was certain was a type of lubricant used to stuff the suit on the deceased. When he was finished, he removed his gloves and looked at the slab. What did this guy do to end up getting stuffed in a wet suit and dumped on a beach? he wondered.

  FOUR

  MAC HEADED HOME AFTER LEAVING THE MORGUE WITHOUT WAITING FOR RYAN TO GET THERE. He knew Ryan would spend all night at the morgue and call him in the morning if he found anything. It was already late, and Mac also knew if he went back to the station, he wouldn’t leave until the next night.

  Having never married, Mac lived alone, but he still put his service weapon in a lockbox that sat on top of his desk in his home office. He sat behind his desk and began the task of making a file for the John Doe found at the beach. He didn’t need the autopsy report to tell him this guy had been murdered. After twenty years working for the Boston Police Department, mostly as an investigator in the homicide division, he knew a crime scene when he saw one.

  Mac had left Boston at the ripe old age of forty-one, after he was recruited to work temporarily as an interim sheriff for this little seaside community of Reagan, New Hampshire. Reagan was just west of Boston, close enough to go to Fenway and yet far enough to get away from the hustle and congestion of the city. And it had a nice little beach. After his tenure as interim sheriff, he entered the election race for the office and easily won. That was almost ten years ago.

  The crime rate was relatively low in Reagan. The crimes that kept Mac the busiest were complaints of barking or howling dogs at night, loud music, missing bikes, or the occasional adolescent shoplifter. The county hadn’t seen a murder in at least sixteen years. Mac had a staff of four full-time officers and six part-time officers. They covered the entire county, which included four small towns with a total population of about twenty-six thousand.

  The body floating along the shore was the most excitement the sheriff’s office had seen in years. Even though Mac had hopes the guy had just drowned or had a heart attack or something, he knew in his gut the results of the autopsy would show something else. He wasn’t sure how the community would handle a murder investigation. He wasn’t even sure if his officers knew how to manage an investigation.

  * * *

  Morning came too quickly for Mac, and along with it, a backache. He stumbled into his kitchen rubbing the small of his back with his right hand, and with his left hand he turned on the coffee pot. Still walking hunched over, he ambled into his bathroom hoping a hot shower would lessen the muscle pain. The shower and coffee woke him up, and soon he was back in his car heading to the station.

  He was sitting at his desk when he heard his dispatcher take a call from the coroner.

  “Good morning. Reagan Police Department.”

  “This is Ryan Davis. I need to speak immediately to Sheriff McNeil,” Ryan said to the dispatch operator.

  The police dispatcher was an older woman who had been at her post for as long as Ryan could remember. She put him on hold and walked into the sheriff’s office.

  “The coroner is on the phone for you; says he needs to talk to you immediately.”

  “Thanks, Van.” Mac picked up the phone. “Sheriff here. What’s up?”

  As soon as Ryan started to speak, he realized he was talking a bit too fast and sounding a little too excited for an experienced pathologist. He had no doubt his friend would call him on his excitement, and knowing the call was being recorded, he cleared his throat and made an effort to sound like the medical professional he was.

  “Sheriff! Uh, Mac! I just finished the preliminary exam on the body found at the beach. There are a few things you need to see. I could go over this by phone, but I think you need to see this for yourself. Plus, I am not sure how secure your office is. I don’t want anything leaked to the press. How soon can you get down to the medical examiner’s office?”

  “On my way,” Mac answered quickly. He was already standing when he hung up the phone. He shouted his destination to Van and practically ran out the door to his car.

  The ME’s office was adjacent to the local hospital and just a few blocks down the street from the city-county building, which was where the sheriff’s office was housed. Mac arrived at the office within minutes. Ryan was waiting for him at the entrance to the building and handed him gloves and a mask. The medical examiner and sheriff had known each other for several years and often worked together on cases. Outside of work they were friends and occasionally went deepwater fishing together along with a group of other locals, but at work, they were business all the way. If a case ever went to court, neither wanted their findings challenged based on their friendship or unprofessional behavior.

  “Good morning, Sheriff. I’m glad you came. We were up all night with your John Doe.” Smirking, Ryan continued, “I’m certain you were aware that I was on my way out of town when my assistant, Mark, called me in. He told me you thought I should get started on this one rather than wait a few days. Good thing you thought to call me in.”

  “Uh, yeah, look, I am sorry about that. We both know that cabin isn’t going anywhere!” Mac said lightheartedly. “Besides, I knew you would want to see this one. You and Max can head up there once this is all over.”

  “I may just do that and keep my phone off this time! Seriously now, Sheriff, we noticed a few unusual issues with your John Doe. Let me show you this guy.”

  Ryan led Mac into the exam room. After numerous years as a police officer and having seen dozens of autopsies, Mac was more familiar with the process than he cared to think about. He still thought of the morgue as one of the coldest and most unfeeling, sterile places someone could work. It amazed him how easily Ryan chatted while performing an autopsy and how his friend even managed to drink coffee in the same room as the body. With this autopsy, both Ryan and Mark seemed excited, curious, and eager to explain the details of their findings.

  “First, the markings or letters in this guy’s chest, if you will, were made postmortem. The markings appear to be the letters JJ.” Ryan pointed to the John Doe’s chest. “Not only are there what appear to be branded or burnt marks on his chest, they were applied after he died. There is also a small bullet wound to the back of the head. This also occurred after he died and is not the cause of death.” Ryan paused for effect before going over to the table where the wet suit was displayed. “Now, when we examined the wet suit, we noticed something even more unusual. I thought you would be interested in this.” Ryan gestured for Mac to follow him to the table where the wet suit was laid out. “Mark will show you the residue that is remaining on the wet suit. The same substance was also found on various parts of this guy’s body.”

  Using a penlight, Mark illuminated the residue and pointed out the location of the substance that coated various areas of the wet suit.

  “So, you think this substance, whatever it is, is unique?” Mac asked while peering at the suit.

  “We won’t know until we get the results back from the crim
e lab,” Ryan answered. “Find the chemical composition of the substance, and if it’s unique, it could help us identify where he was killed. And that could lead to not only who this this guy is but maybe even his killer.”

  “Whoa there, Ryan, until you have a cause of death, all we have is a dead guy in a wet suit found floating on the beach. There is no evidence he was murdered. You just said the bullet wound is postmortem.”

  “Mac, if you will notice, where the residue or substance touched the wet suit, it caused a discoloration of the suit material. Both my intern and I suspect the residue is petroleum based,” Ryan explained.

  Nodding his head in understanding, Mac replied, “The branded letters—that’s more than unusual. It doesn’t make any sense. You haven’t identified him? Has anyone come forward to say they are missing a family member, a husband, a brother, anyone? If I understand you correctly, you don’t have a cause of death, he was shot and marked up after he was dead, and that wet suit is completely in one piece. No bullet holes? Any tears?” Mac realized this was not going to be an easy drowning or even an easy murder. Lowering his voice, he asked Ryan and Mark, “You don’t have any idea how he died, do you?”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, I have no idea right now. I just sent off the samples to the lab. Once we have those back, I may be able to give you a cause of death. But at the moment, I have no idea. What I can tell you after my preliminary exam, Sheriff, is the victim is between the ages of thirty-five and forty-five, with no indication of heart, liver, or renal disease. No prior fractures and no blunt-force trauma. I also sent out a toxicology screen. Maybe that will shed some light on the cause of death.”

  The sheriff was intent on keeping the meeting professional. “Dr. Davis, Mark, this autopsy can’t be made public. We can’t have the public thinking there is a maniac on the loose, killing people and branding them with letters, stuffing them in wet suits and then dumping them on the beach! The only information about this autopsy that can be disclosed is the cause of death. I don’t even want the bullet wound disclosed. Do you both understand?”