what it didn’t say,” Pete said, giving each of them a serious look. “It ruled cause of death as inconclusive. The . . .” He paused to look at Ji, a small furrow showing between his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re okay hearing about these details? Sadie’s used to it, but this is your mother.”
“I’m okay,” Ji said. He attempted a smile, though it didn’t look natural on his face. “When I get off work and can’t sleep, I watch reruns of CSI. ”
“So do I,” Sadie said, the connection overriding her caution. “Do you like Vegas best? Because I find the Vegas series to be the most interesting.”
Ji gave her a strange look, making her aware of how overeager she’d sounded. “Sorry,” she said, looking down at the counter and brushing away imaginary crumbs.
“Ji, are you sure?” Pete asked again.
“I’m sure, Pete,” Ji said as though they were old friends. “If it becomes too much for me, I’ll say so.”
“Okay,” Pete said. “The body was so badly decomposed that the police were unable to determine cause of death. They were able to conclusively rule out traumatic injury—there was nothing like broken bones or evidence of a weapon being used—and tissue samples were clear of things like toxins or drugs.”
“Like from a poisoning?” Ji said.
Pete nodded. “But they can’t be certain of how she died. Possibly a heart attack or stroke, or maybe drowning. Because there’s nothing that specifically indicates foul play, she could have died of natural causes.”
“Really?” Sadie said, trying to determine why this was so surprising to her. Probably because so many of the cases she’d worked had been homicide and the circumstances with Wendy’s death were so bizarre.
“Every indication seems to point to the probability that she was taking a bath at the time of her death, and nothing within that part of the investigation indicates foul play.”
“It’s a relief to think she wasn’t murdered,” Ji said. “How do they explain the . . . fire?”
“Well, they can’t really explain that part. At least they can’t explain the motive for it or the delay in time between her death and the fire itself. Up until the forensics report came in, it seemed likely to assume that Wendy was killed and the killer returned four weeks later, but now there’s nothing that suggests homicide as cause of death. The fire didn’t cause any serious damage to the apartment, and the anonymous phone call was probably made within minutes of the fire being set; the police think that perhaps the lack of damage could have been intentional and the anonymous caller was the person who’d set the fire.”
“Why would the arsonist call the fire department?” Sadie asked.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want to burn down the whole building. Maybe they had second thoughts—the department doesn’t have any really great theories either. The fire did further compromise the condition of the body, so perhaps the intent was to compound confusion of cause of death.”
Sadie pondered that information.
“Where did the person call from?” Ji asked.
“A pay phone a couple of blocks west of here. The caller said they saw smoke from an apartment at the corner of Mission and 22nd Street, then hung up. A first responder was at the building within four minutes and saw smoke coming from the open bathroom window. The fire was already smoldering by the time they got into Wendy’s apartment, which was unlocked. Nothing in the bathroom had caught fire . . . well, except Wendy. The body had been doused with some kind of accelerant, which is why it burned at all. The fan in the bathroom was also on, like we thought, and it drafted most of the smoke out of the building, leaving minimal damage behind.”
“That’s why the apartment didn’t reek of smoke,” Sadie said. “Do they know if the fan was on in the weeks between Wendy’s death and the fire?”
“They only know that it was on at the time
“I’m okay,” Ji said. He attempted a smile, though it didn’t look natural on his face. “When I get off work and can’t sleep, I watch reruns of CSI. ”
“So do I,” Sadie said, the connection overriding her caution. “Do you like Vegas best? Because I find the Vegas series to be the most interesting.”
Ji gave her a strange look, making her aware of how overeager she’d sounded. “Sorry,” she said, looking down at the counter and brushing away imaginary crumbs.
“Ji, are you sure?” Pete asked again.
“I’m sure, Pete,” Ji said as though they were old friends. “If it becomes too much for me, I’ll say so.”
“Okay,” Pete said. “The body was so badly decomposed that the police were unable to determine cause of death. They were able to conclusively rule out traumatic injury—there was nothing like broken bones or evidence of a weapon being used—and tissue samples were clear of things like toxins or drugs.”
“Like from a poisoning?” Ji said.
Pete nodded. “But they can’t be certain of how she died. Possibly a heart attack or stroke, or maybe drowning. Because there’s nothing that specifically indicates foul play, she could have died of natural causes.”
“Really?” Sadie said, trying to determine why this was so surprising to her. Probably because so many of the cases she’d worked had been homicide and the circumstances with Wendy’s death were so bizarre.
“Every indication seems to point to the probability that she was taking a bath at the time of her death, and nothing within that part of the investigation indicates foul play.”
“It’s a relief to think she wasn’t murdered,” Ji said. “How do they explain the . . . fire?”
“Well, they can’t really explain that part. At least they can’t explain the motive for it or the delay in time between her death and the fire itself. Up until the forensics report came in, it seemed likely to assume that Wendy was killed and the killer returned four weeks later, but now there’s nothing that suggests homicide as cause of death. The fire didn’t cause any serious damage to the apartment, and the anonymous phone call was probably made within minutes of the fire being set; the police think that perhaps the lack of damage could have been intentional and the anonymous caller was the person who’d set the fire.”
“Why would the arsonist call the fire department?” Sadie asked.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want to burn down the whole building. Maybe they had second thoughts—the department doesn’t have any really great theories either. The fire did further compromise the condition of the body, so perhaps the intent was to compound confusion of cause of death.”
Sadie pondered that information.
“Where did the person call from?” Ji asked.
“A pay phone a couple of blocks west of here. The caller said they saw smoke from an apartment at the corner of Mission and 22nd Street, then hung up. A first responder was at the building within four minutes and saw smoke coming from the open bathroom window. The fire was already smoldering by the time they got into Wendy’s apartment, which was unlocked. Nothing in the bathroom had caught fire . . . well, except Wendy. The body had been doused with some kind of accelerant, which is why it burned at all. The fan in the bathroom was also on, like we thought, and it drafted most of the smoke out of the building, leaving minimal damage behind.”
“That’s why the apartment didn’t reek of smoke,” Sadie said. “Do they know if the fan was on in the weeks between Wendy’s death and the fire?”
“They only know that it was on at the time
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