Unknown Victim by Kay Hadashi (top 10 books of all time txt) 📗

can be sure I’ll remind him of that the next time I see him. The mark that you saw, the one that Iosefa said was a spider bite, was in fact a stab wound, likely made by an ice pick or similar weapon. Upon close examination by the coroner, the wound track was square in cross section, not round. That’s why I was interested in running that test on the nail.”

“I’ve seen jabs and slashes that had been made by ice picks, but can one do enough damage to kill someone?” she asked.

“The shafts of those are five to six inches in length, plenty long enough to reach deep into the liver, especially for someone as slender as the victim. According to the coroner, whoever stabbed him, knew what he was doing. He swept the weapon back and forth, and up and done through the liver, shredding it. That was as much of an injury as if he, or she, had used a knife, but left only a small puncture wound on the surface of the skin. The ensuing bleeding would’ve remained internal.”

“That’s nasty. And because the external wound was so small, there was little external blood loss?”

“Exactly. At first, he probably thought he was fine, that all he needed was a Band-Aid. The internal bleeding was slow enough that he lived for a while. According to the ME, his only pain would’ve been from where the skin and muscle had been pierced, and not from internal injuries. That’s why I’m back here today. Both the ME and I are seriously considering his death a murder.”

Gina gave the scene and the evidence some thought. “Why not a suicide?”

“It doesn’t seem like he would’ve killed himself on your porch. That doesn’t make sense to me. There was no weapon on him that matches the description the ME provided, and why would the man put a Band-Aid on a self-inflicted wound?”

“He could’ve flung the weapon away,” Gina said. “Like the nail I found in the dirt. Now I see why it was so important to you.”

Detective Kona continued to take notes. “It still doesn’t explain the Band-Aid.”

“There are a lot of unexplained things,” she muttered. “Is that why you had the CSI techs come back yesterday with metal detectors?”

“At that time I was still interested if anything unusual might be found. Even when a situation seems benign, we still need to investigate, just in case we find evidence later that indicates foul play. That happened today when the ME discovered the vic’s liver had been shredded.”

“Okay, let’s say he was stabbed with something long and slender by someone else,” Gina said. “Wouldn’t the perp have tossed the murder weapon into the stream instead of leaving it near the body or the scene of the crime?”

“That’s what I would do. But I’d also come back to look for my Rolex if I lost it. Because of that, I’m beginning to think the Rolex was being worn by the assailant, rather than by someone on your crew.”

“Why not by the dead man?” she asked.

“A man with nothing to his name other than a bottle cap and a broken pocket knife wouldn’t be wearing a Rolex.”

“I guess not. But would someone who can afford a Rolex have anything to do with someone like the dead man? He seemed homeless. Those are two different worlds that just don’t seem to collide in ordinary circumstances,” Gina said.

“I think collide is the operative word, Miss Santoro, and there’s nothing ordinary about stabbing someone in the liver. You’ve also forgotten one important fact.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“He might not have been stabbed on your porch. It almost seems more likely that he was stabbed elsewhere and either came or was brought here later. Did you hear anything during the night? Any noise come from outside at all?”

“There’s all kinds of creepy noises here every night. Someone at the hardware store said the place might be haunted.”

That seemed interesting to the detective and he made a note about it. “I wasn’t aware hardware store employees were experts in things that go bump in the night.”

“What about footprints in the dirt?” Gina asked. “Any of those match his shoes?”

“Once again, not even close. Another dead end.”

“What if he crossed through the stream and walked through the grass, avoiding the soft dirt? Or maybe he arrived before the rain made the dirt soft enough to leave imprints?"

“You’re thinking like an investigator, Miss Santoro.”

Gina exhaled. “Sorry. Just yesterday you warned me not to allow my police training to interfere, and to stick to being the gardener.”

“Fuggitaboutit,” he said. “Do Italian people really say that?”

“Maybe in New York. I’m from Cleveland. Could he have crossed the stream instead of take the bridge?”

“Not likely. His shoes were dry.”

“They could’ve dried during the night.”

“It was a rainy night, which makes that pretty unlikely. Plus, there was no sand in his shoes, as if he’d waded through moving water.”

“And he had that grass stuck to the soles of his shoes, too,” Gina said. “That would’ve washed off if he’d walked through the stream.”

“What do you know about that?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just happened to notice grass clippings stuck to his shoes this morning.”

He checked some notes again. “All I can make out is that he might’ve been killed elsewhere, and brought here by someone, and left on your front porch for whatever odd reason. You have no idea why any of that might’ve happened?”

Gina frowned and shook her head. “No idea. I’d like to know who he was so I could at least say a prayer for him, or light a candle at a church. What about the other shoe prints in the dirt? I noticed your CSI techs taking snapshots of my crew’s shoes. Any matches there?”

“To three, yes. And they all have solid alibis for their where-abouts at the approximate time of the murder.”

“Which was when?” Gina asked.

“The stabbing took place four to six hours before you found him, which was just before six AM. Time