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

park that we think the victim frequented? That seems more than circumstantial to me, Detective.”

“A bartender in a hurry to get an unpleasant morning chore done happened to scratch his arm with a box cutter a few days before, working at a bar with an ice pick next to the ice tub, near a park you think the victim frequented, is how a defense attorney would frame that. Everything you’ve given me is circumstantial, Miss Santoro. I need hard evidence, fingerprints, bloodstains, something like that. Even an eyewitness with corroborating photographs or video. And that evidence needs to be collected by police officials to be admissible in court. You know that.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Detective, if it’s okay to tell me, what did the victim’s autopsy show?” Gina asked Detective Kona as she walked him to his car.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d get around to asking me that. His only injury was the stab wound to the liver, like I already mentioned. No drugs or alcohol in his blood system, and his stomach and upper intestines contained only what had looked like a cheese sandwich. Other than being in a state of malnourishment as the coroner put it, which many homeless people are, he wasn’t in too bad of shape.”

“Cheese sandwich? I was hoping there’d be Tuyo beer in his stomach.”

“American cheese on white bread, with mustard and mayonnaise. No pickles or lettuce. Just orange-colored cheese. College co-ed diet.”

“It still amazes me a coroner can determine what someone has eaten, even several hours later.”

“His stomach contents were still mostly undigested and he’d had nothing to wash it down. The coroner put the time of the last meal within two hours of time of death.”

“What was his time of death?” Gina asked.

“You reported finding his body between five-thirty-five, and five-forty. According to body temperature and lividity, time of death was between two AM and three.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that the coroner thought he didn’t die right away, but it might’ve taken a couple of hours for him to slowly bleed to death internally?”

“He said that’s typical in an ice pick injury to the liver.” He stopped before getting into his car. “Miss Santoro, you have a knack for investigation. It’s a shame you didn’t stick with law enforcement.”

“So I’ve been told. But like my sister says, I’d need to pack nine millimeters of heat on my hip if I wanted to make it a career, which is something I’m not willing to do.”

“You’ve sworn off firearms altogether?” Kona asked while climbing in his car.

“I’ll never touch one again in my life.” When Kona started his engine, Gina stepped back. “Thanks for answering my questions. What happens next?”

“Nothing with you, Miss Santoro. Now that the autopsy is done, and my CSI team has collected all the evidence they can from the body, there’s no reason to keep him in the morgue.”

“You’re already sending him to the funeral home without knowing his full identity?” she asked.

“Not much choice. If no one steps forward to claim his body, he’ll get a pauper’s funeral.”

“Where would he be buried? I’d like to attend. I think someone should be there, even if it’s just me.”

Detective Kona shook his head. “In this state, unclaimed bodies are cremated and buried by the cemetery groundskeeper at his convenience. We live on an island. We don’t have the luxury of burials, unless someone is willing to pay for a plot.”

He gave her a nod before backing out and turning for the little bridge to leave. Gina turned back for the porch, which was becoming her lounge area and living room.

“He said it himself, that the vic’s injury was consistent with an ice pick. He also thought there was something to my evidence diagrams. He didn’t laugh, anyway.”

Trying her best to ignore her notes on the case, she went back to drawing her visions of the future of the estate gardens. It wasn’t long before a pickup truck arrived, one she recognized. She smiled and stood when Kenzo the handyman got out and came to the porch.

“Nice day and you sit here alone?” he asked her.

“I’m working on some ideas for the estate.” She flashed her sketchpad. “Is this a social visit or did you come to check on the water heater?”

“Little bit of both.” He took the sketchpad and looked at her drawings. She had as many smudges and erasures as drawings. He tapped a bent finger on the rough drawing of the Japanese garden that she’d copied from the few old photos she’d been given by Millie. “Looks good.”

“I’ll have to find someone to help me with that. Don’t tell the Tanizawas, but I don’t know much about Japanese gardens.”

“So far, so good,” he said, handing back the sketchpad.

Gina still hadn’t got an answer about why he was there on a Saturday afternoon. According to his code of rules, it would be too late in the day to work outside. He didn’t seem the type to drop in on people, just for a chat. “I have a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge. Would you like some?”

That almost got a smile from him. He followed her into the house to the kitchen. “Sounds good.”

She poured two glasses. Handing him one, she noticed that if he hadn’t been slightly bow-legged, he’d be taller than her. Instead of sitting at the kitchen table, he walked around the room, inspecting the walls.

“No walls yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. I’m looking forward to seeing it painted.”

“Pick out a color yet?”

“I’m thinking yellow. From the pictures I’ve seen of the house, it looks like everything was white. I thought a pale yellow might make it more cheerful. Maybe it’s not historically accurate, but do you think the Tanizawas will mind much?”

He shrugged and finished him lemonade. “Should be okay.”

“I’ve been hoping the outlet to the stove could be rewired so the stove worked right. Apparently, that would burn the house down, though,” she said.

“We could do it today.”

“Oh, you’re an electrician, also?”