by a fire.
I bent over for a closer look. As Abner predicted, the top of the skull had exploded, and the hair had melted.
“You said she, Doc. How do you know it’s a she?”
Abner pointed at the base of the skull. “Two reasons. First, see that area of exposed bone? The occipital protuberance is not pronounced.”
I knew, of course, that one of the several ways to determine the sex of skeletal remains was the occipital protuberance, a small notch of bone at the base of the skull. It was generally large in males. In females, it was almost absent. Any grad student could find it in a dry skull, which I had often done myself, but to spot that one characteristic out of a blackened mass was nothing short of amazing.
“Second reason?” I asked.
“She was wearing a synthetic house dress.”
The victim wore a housedress and one sock. Fire had burned off most of the floral patterned fabric, except for a patch on her trunk. Her unburned skin had a glossy look to it, like she had been lacquered down, and her face had crumpled up, the lips curling away from the teeth and the lids peeling away from the red sockets where the eyeballs had melted. Her arms were drawn up in what was termed the “pugilist position,” the fingers formed into tight black balls.
“You’re right.”
“Not bad for a senile old cuss, huh?”
This is what death looks like, I thought. I felt the color drain from my face. I handed the camera to Abner and slowly walked away.
“You all right, Boone?”
“Just need some air.” But what I really needed was to tell somebody.
“We found a body,” I said as soon as Cedar answered her cell.
“Come again?” Her voice was drowned out by other students in the lab. “Wait, let me stick my head out in the hallway. Say that again.”
“Abner and I found a body at the Nagswood property. I was right. There was someone inside the house.”
“That’s awful! I mean, it’s cool that you’re right and everything, but that’s awful! Someone’s….somebody’s…”
Dead.
“I know.” My voice dropped lower. “Look, I have to call 911 to alert the sheriff. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice echoed in the metal locker. “Text me. I’ll be in class.”
I ended the call. Cedar was right. It wasn’t cool to find a dead person. It was awful. It was even worse if the person is dying in the belly of an aircraft carrier, and you were on the fire crew that wasn't able to save him.
I dialed 911 and waited for the operator to pick up.
3
There’s something about the finding a human body that draws law enforcement like rubberneckers to a highway wreck. Fifteen minutes after I called it in, the cops came en masse to Nagswood. The routine fire that had been nothing more than the burning of the leftovers of a life suddenly became fascinating to ninety percent of the Allegheny County Sheriff’s department.
The first officer to arrive was Deputy Mercer. He parked on the west side of the property, apart from the other cars. His front tires sank several inches into the clay soil. Mercer was taller than I remembered, with cropped hair, a boxed chin, and shoulders that tapered to his waist. A swimmer’s build.
Abner and I waited near the foundation. We had left the evidence where we had found it. I was leaning on the hooligan tool. Pickett and the others were smoking cigarettes and trying to get a signal on their old flip phones.
“Stand where you are.” Mercer swung himself out of the prowler. The Taser was clipped to his gun belt. His radio was flipped over his left shoulder, dangling by its twisted cord. “Which one of y’all called 911?”
“Does it matter?” Pickett said. “Dr. Zickafoose is the one who discovered the corpse.”
“I’d rather use the term individual, if you don’t mind,” Abner said. “Abner Doubleday Zickafoose, Ph.D. My grandson, Daniel Boone Childress.”
The deputy glared at me. I wasn’t surprised. Mercer looked like a guy who
I bent over for a closer look. As Abner predicted, the top of the skull had exploded, and the hair had melted.
“You said she, Doc. How do you know it’s a she?”
Abner pointed at the base of the skull. “Two reasons. First, see that area of exposed bone? The occipital protuberance is not pronounced.”
I knew, of course, that one of the several ways to determine the sex of skeletal remains was the occipital protuberance, a small notch of bone at the base of the skull. It was generally large in males. In females, it was almost absent. Any grad student could find it in a dry skull, which I had often done myself, but to spot that one characteristic out of a blackened mass was nothing short of amazing.
“Second reason?” I asked.
“She was wearing a synthetic house dress.”
The victim wore a housedress and one sock. Fire had burned off most of the floral patterned fabric, except for a patch on her trunk. Her unburned skin had a glossy look to it, like she had been lacquered down, and her face had crumpled up, the lips curling away from the teeth and the lids peeling away from the red sockets where the eyeballs had melted. Her arms were drawn up in what was termed the “pugilist position,” the fingers formed into tight black balls.
“You’re right.”
“Not bad for a senile old cuss, huh?”
This is what death looks like, I thought. I felt the color drain from my face. I handed the camera to Abner and slowly walked away.
“You all right, Boone?”
“Just need some air.” But what I really needed was to tell somebody.
“We found a body,” I said as soon as Cedar answered her cell.
“Come again?” Her voice was drowned out by other students in the lab. “Wait, let me stick my head out in the hallway. Say that again.”
“Abner and I found a body at the Nagswood property. I was right. There was someone inside the house.”
“That’s awful! I mean, it’s cool that you’re right and everything, but that’s awful! Someone’s….somebody’s…”
Dead.
“I know.” My voice dropped lower. “Look, I have to call 911 to alert the sheriff. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice echoed in the metal locker. “Text me. I’ll be in class.”
I ended the call. Cedar was right. It wasn’t cool to find a dead person. It was awful. It was even worse if the person is dying in the belly of an aircraft carrier, and you were on the fire crew that wasn't able to save him.
I dialed 911 and waited for the operator to pick up.
3
There’s something about the finding a human body that draws law enforcement like rubberneckers to a highway wreck. Fifteen minutes after I called it in, the cops came en masse to Nagswood. The routine fire that had been nothing more than the burning of the leftovers of a life suddenly became fascinating to ninety percent of the Allegheny County Sheriff’s department.
The first officer to arrive was Deputy Mercer. He parked on the west side of the property, apart from the other cars. His front tires sank several inches into the clay soil. Mercer was taller than I remembered, with cropped hair, a boxed chin, and shoulders that tapered to his waist. A swimmer’s build.
Abner and I waited near the foundation. We had left the evidence where we had found it. I was leaning on the hooligan tool. Pickett and the others were smoking cigarettes and trying to get a signal on their old flip phones.
“Stand where you are.” Mercer swung himself out of the prowler. The Taser was clipped to his gun belt. His radio was flipped over his left shoulder, dangling by its twisted cord. “Which one of y’all called 911?”
“Does it matter?” Pickett said. “Dr. Zickafoose is the one who discovered the corpse.”
“I’d rather use the term individual, if you don’t mind,” Abner said. “Abner Doubleday Zickafoose, Ph.D. My grandson, Daniel Boone Childress.”
The deputy glared at me. I wasn’t surprised. Mercer looked like a guy who
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