own grave.
Could Emma be on the right track? Might the Dewees man have kiled himself, then been buried by a friend or family member? Why? Shame? Reluctance to pony up funeral expenses? Fear that insurance payments might be denied? That seemed unlikely. It took years to have a missing person declared dead.
Might the Dewees case turn out to be nothing more than improper disposal of a human corpse?
I ran through alternative explanations for the unilateral neck trauma I was seeing on the man in the trees. The same explanations I'd considered for the man from Dewees.
Fal? Strangulation? Whiplash? Blow to the head?
Nothing made sense, given the type of fracture and its location.
I was stil pondering when Emma burst through the door.
"We've got him!"
I turned from the scope.
Emma waved a printout at the skeleton. "Gulet ran the prints through AFIS." The Automated Fingerprint Identification System. "Our boy popped right up."
The name she announced blew vertebral fractures right off my radar.
12
"NOBLE CRUIKSHANK."
"Sweet Jesus."
If my reaction surprised Emma, she let it go.
"Cruikshank's a retired Charlotte-Mecklenburg cop. But that's not why he was in the system. CMPD rookies are printed at their academy, of course, but the prints are kept in-house. Cruikshank was arrested in ninety-two for DWI. That's when he was entered."
"You're certain it's Cruikshank?" Stupid. I knew the answer to that.
"Twelve-point match."
I took the printout and read Cruikshank's descriptors. Male. White. Five foot six. DOB put his age at forty-seven.
My skeletal profile fit. Body condition was consistent with two months' exposure. Of course it was Cruikshank.
Noble Cruikshank. Buck Flynn's missing detective.
I studied the photo. Though grainy black-and-white, it gave a sense of the man.
Cruikshank's skin was pockmarked, his nose humped, his hair combed straight back and curled up on the ends. The flesh was starting to sag along his jawline and cheekbones, and he was probably carrying less poundage than he would have liked. Stil, the expression was pure macho tough guy.
"Noble Cruikshank. I'l be damned."
"You know him?"
"Not personaly. Cruikshank got booted from the force in ninety-four for getting in bed with Jimmy B. He was working private when he went missing last March."
"And we're privy to this because…?"
"You remember Pete?"
"Your husband."
"Estranged husband. Pete's been retained to investigate some financial dealings at GMC and also look into the whereabouts of the client's missing daughter, who was involved with the organization. Before he hired Pete, Buck Flynn, that's the client, hired Cruikshank. While conducting his inquiry, Cruikshank vanished."
"Pete's a lawyer."
"That was my reaction. Pete's Latvian. Flynn's mother was Latvian. Flynn trusts him because he's one of the clan."
"Flynn's kid disappeared here?"
"Presumably. Cruikshank's specialty was missing persons and his patch was Charleston and Charlotte. Helene Flynn, that's the daughter, was a member of GMC, where Buck was a major donor."
"Aubrey Herron. There's a piece of work. Flynn didn't get curious when his investigator stopped reporting?"
"Apparently Cruikshank had a history of binge drinking."
"Flynn hired a drunk?"
"He didn't know that until after he hired him. Found Cruikshank on the Internet. Thus his subsequent preference for a member of his own Baltic gene pool."
Emma voiced the question I'd been asking myself.
"What was Cruikshank doing with Pinckney's walet?"
"Found it?" I threw out.
"Stole it?"
"Got it from someone who found or stole it?"
"Pinckney said the walet disappeared in February or March, right around the time Cruikshank kiled himself."
"Presumably," I said.
"Presumably. Maybe someone found the body hanging in the woods and planted the walet on it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Practical joke?"
"That would take a pretty morbid sense of humor."
"To create confusion when it came time to ID the deceased?"
"The walet was in the
Could Emma be on the right track? Might the Dewees man have kiled himself, then been buried by a friend or family member? Why? Shame? Reluctance to pony up funeral expenses? Fear that insurance payments might be denied? That seemed unlikely. It took years to have a missing person declared dead.
Might the Dewees case turn out to be nothing more than improper disposal of a human corpse?
I ran through alternative explanations for the unilateral neck trauma I was seeing on the man in the trees. The same explanations I'd considered for the man from Dewees.
Fal? Strangulation? Whiplash? Blow to the head?
Nothing made sense, given the type of fracture and its location.
I was stil pondering when Emma burst through the door.
"We've got him!"
I turned from the scope.
Emma waved a printout at the skeleton. "Gulet ran the prints through AFIS." The Automated Fingerprint Identification System. "Our boy popped right up."
The name she announced blew vertebral fractures right off my radar.
12
"NOBLE CRUIKSHANK."
"Sweet Jesus."
If my reaction surprised Emma, she let it go.
"Cruikshank's a retired Charlotte-Mecklenburg cop. But that's not why he was in the system. CMPD rookies are printed at their academy, of course, but the prints are kept in-house. Cruikshank was arrested in ninety-two for DWI. That's when he was entered."
"You're certain it's Cruikshank?" Stupid. I knew the answer to that.
"Twelve-point match."
I took the printout and read Cruikshank's descriptors. Male. White. Five foot six. DOB put his age at forty-seven.
My skeletal profile fit. Body condition was consistent with two months' exposure. Of course it was Cruikshank.
Noble Cruikshank. Buck Flynn's missing detective.
I studied the photo. Though grainy black-and-white, it gave a sense of the man.
Cruikshank's skin was pockmarked, his nose humped, his hair combed straight back and curled up on the ends. The flesh was starting to sag along his jawline and cheekbones, and he was probably carrying less poundage than he would have liked. Stil, the expression was pure macho tough guy.
"Noble Cruikshank. I'l be damned."
"You know him?"
"Not personaly. Cruikshank got booted from the force in ninety-four for getting in bed with Jimmy B. He was working private when he went missing last March."
"And we're privy to this because…?"
"You remember Pete?"
"Your husband."
"Estranged husband. Pete's been retained to investigate some financial dealings at GMC and also look into the whereabouts of the client's missing daughter, who was involved with the organization. Before he hired Pete, Buck Flynn, that's the client, hired Cruikshank. While conducting his inquiry, Cruikshank vanished."
"Pete's a lawyer."
"That was my reaction. Pete's Latvian. Flynn's mother was Latvian. Flynn trusts him because he's one of the clan."
"Flynn's kid disappeared here?"
"Presumably. Cruikshank's specialty was missing persons and his patch was Charleston and Charlotte. Helene Flynn, that's the daughter, was a member of GMC, where Buck was a major donor."
"Aubrey Herron. There's a piece of work. Flynn didn't get curious when his investigator stopped reporting?"
"Apparently Cruikshank had a history of binge drinking."
"Flynn hired a drunk?"
"He didn't know that until after he hired him. Found Cruikshank on the Internet. Thus his subsequent preference for a member of his own Baltic gene pool."
Emma voiced the question I'd been asking myself.
"What was Cruikshank doing with Pinckney's walet?"
"Found it?" I threw out.
"Stole it?"
"Got it from someone who found or stole it?"
"Pinckney said the walet disappeared in February or March, right around the time Cruikshank kiled himself."
"Presumably," I said.
"Presumably. Maybe someone found the body hanging in the woods and planted the walet on it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Practical joke?"
"That would take a pretty morbid sense of humor."
"To create confusion when it came time to ID the deceased?"
"The walet was in the
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