close cases that he felt his rough exterior was accepted. Wilkes was the “bad cop” to every other officer’s “good cop.” Most on the force agreed he was a good detective. He just wasn’t the most agreeable person to be around.
“My horses don’t need to be held,” Wilkes replied. “They need answers.”
Tanaka glared over at Parks, standing silently in the co rner, and prayed for his participation in—or possibly commandeering of—this case.
Sitting before them in a sofa chair, slouched over a kitc hen table, was Ian Harris’s body. Across the top of the table, underneath the victim’s head and several rolls of film, were the numbers 313 written in women’s red lipstick. The tube of lipstick had been left on the corner furthest from the victim’s head and had already been photographed, bagged, and tagged. Tanaka tried maneuvering around the body as a pool of blood had formed on the table around the man’s face and on the floor below him where it had dripped off and collected. When the victim’s head was lifted back from the table, it was discovered his face was contorted and covered with blood that appeared to have leaked out through the man’s eyes. With most of his body bloated and his hands, arms, and face discolored, it was difficult to get a positive visual identification even with the super letting them know who lived in the loft. Tanaka maneuvered the corpse’s hand and held several fingers up to her scanner, where the prints were immediately fed into IAFIS. Five minutes later, while she was examining the eyes for lacerations, the corpse’s identity was confirmed.
“Can’t you just say the man bled to death and let my men get to the body?”
“I could say that,” Tanaka replied without looking up at the detective. “But that doesn’t necessarily make it true. Now, do you want the truth or just whatever half-assed theory I can throw at you to shut you up and get me the hell out of here? It’s your report, Detective.”
“So you’re saying he didn’t die from bleeding to death from his eyes?”
“I’ll have to get him to the lab to do a full autopsy to know for sure,” Tanaka answered. Wilkes’s internal groan could be heard throughout the room so she continued. “Did he die from blood loss? It’s possible. There is a lot of blood here. Was it enough to kill him? Only if he didn’t quickly receive the proper medical attention. But you’re looking for what caused the blood loss as his reason of death. What that cause is, I don’t yet know.”
“But what could cause that?”
“Officially?”
“Just whatever you can tell me off the top of your head. I know you need to wait for your damn autopsy to be official. Your guess will do me fine just now.”
“Off the top of my head? Trauma. Infection of some sort. Thrombocytopenia. That’s decreased blood platelets. Leukemia has been known to cause bleeding from the eyes. Hereditary disorders. Liver disease. Hemophilia or an anticoagulant of some sort. And there’s also hyphema which is bleeding between the cornea and iris. Or a face fracture.”
“Does his face look fractured to you?”
“No it does not, Detective,” Tanaka answered, studying the body. “But this is one of the most violent crime scenes I’ve seen in a while.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. You want a reason, then pick one of those. I won’t know for sure until—”
“You complete your autopsy,” Wilkes finished for her as he waved her off. “Son of a bitch. All right. So when will that be?”
“The autopsy?” Tanaka knew she was about to disappoint the man. “Sorry, but I have a backlog a mile long. On top of that, it’s Monday evening and today’s Labor Day. Half the department’s working overtime already, and it isn’t exactly a slow time with it being a holiday. Probably won’t get to it until Wednesday. Maybe Thursday.”
Wilkes breathed deeply to let it be known he was disa ppointed. But this wasn’t his first
“My horses don’t need to be held,” Wilkes replied. “They need answers.”
Tanaka glared over at Parks, standing silently in the co rner, and prayed for his participation in—or possibly commandeering of—this case.
Sitting before them in a sofa chair, slouched over a kitc hen table, was Ian Harris’s body. Across the top of the table, underneath the victim’s head and several rolls of film, were the numbers 313 written in women’s red lipstick. The tube of lipstick had been left on the corner furthest from the victim’s head and had already been photographed, bagged, and tagged. Tanaka tried maneuvering around the body as a pool of blood had formed on the table around the man’s face and on the floor below him where it had dripped off and collected. When the victim’s head was lifted back from the table, it was discovered his face was contorted and covered with blood that appeared to have leaked out through the man’s eyes. With most of his body bloated and his hands, arms, and face discolored, it was difficult to get a positive visual identification even with the super letting them know who lived in the loft. Tanaka maneuvered the corpse’s hand and held several fingers up to her scanner, where the prints were immediately fed into IAFIS. Five minutes later, while she was examining the eyes for lacerations, the corpse’s identity was confirmed.
“Can’t you just say the man bled to death and let my men get to the body?”
“I could say that,” Tanaka replied without looking up at the detective. “But that doesn’t necessarily make it true. Now, do you want the truth or just whatever half-assed theory I can throw at you to shut you up and get me the hell out of here? It’s your report, Detective.”
“So you’re saying he didn’t die from bleeding to death from his eyes?”
“I’ll have to get him to the lab to do a full autopsy to know for sure,” Tanaka answered. Wilkes’s internal groan could be heard throughout the room so she continued. “Did he die from blood loss? It’s possible. There is a lot of blood here. Was it enough to kill him? Only if he didn’t quickly receive the proper medical attention. But you’re looking for what caused the blood loss as his reason of death. What that cause is, I don’t yet know.”
“But what could cause that?”
“Officially?”
“Just whatever you can tell me off the top of your head. I know you need to wait for your damn autopsy to be official. Your guess will do me fine just now.”
“Off the top of my head? Trauma. Infection of some sort. Thrombocytopenia. That’s decreased blood platelets. Leukemia has been known to cause bleeding from the eyes. Hereditary disorders. Liver disease. Hemophilia or an anticoagulant of some sort. And there’s also hyphema which is bleeding between the cornea and iris. Or a face fracture.”
“Does his face look fractured to you?”
“No it does not, Detective,” Tanaka answered, studying the body. “But this is one of the most violent crime scenes I’ve seen in a while.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. You want a reason, then pick one of those. I won’t know for sure until—”
“You complete your autopsy,” Wilkes finished for her as he waved her off. “Son of a bitch. All right. So when will that be?”
“The autopsy?” Tanaka knew she was about to disappoint the man. “Sorry, but I have a backlog a mile long. On top of that, it’s Monday evening and today’s Labor Day. Half the department’s working overtime already, and it isn’t exactly a slow time with it being a holiday. Probably won’t get to it until Wednesday. Maybe Thursday.”
Wilkes breathed deeply to let it be known he was disa ppointed. But this wasn’t his first
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