The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

she knew about rainforests being destroyed and animal abuse and child molesters and garbage filling the seas. When she was eight, she reflected, she could afford to be sweet.

CHAPTER 4

Walter and Kali looked at the skeleton arrayed on the metal examination table. There wasn’t much to see. Stitches had removed the clothing from the body. The hands were no longer carefully folded, nor was the body still bent at the waist and knees. Stretched out beneath the glare of lights, it seemed even smaller and more despondent than it had looked curled within the refrigerator.

Kali moved toward another table, where the clothing had been laid out. The deceased had been dressed in a short-sleeved shirt beneath his overalls, but the cloth had long ago begun to disintegrate. His shoes were leather, but thin and inexpensive, and the soles and heels revealed considerable wear.

“There’s something about these clothes that suggests a different time period, don’t you think?” she asked. “The shoes, too. They look a little old-fashioned.”

Stitches nodded. “Indeed they do,” she said, “that is, if you think the 1970s and ’80s warrants the term ‘old-fashioned.’ And let’s remember: Not everyone has the means to update their wardrobe on a regular basis. Many people hold on to clothing for a very long time, or wear hand-me-downs.”

Kali frowned. “Granted. To me,” she said slowly, walking around the table and viewing the items from different angles, “the coveralls suggest farm laborer, but the shoes say going-to-town day.” She moved closer to where Stitches stood in front of the skeleton.

“Yeah,” said Walter. “It seems like boots would be more appropriate for working in the fields.”

“Again, you’re projecting. Not everyone can afford boots. Or perhaps he’d decided to be ironic when he got dressed the day he died,” said Stitches. Neither Kali nor Walter laughed, unable to separate her humor from her sarcasm even after years of working with her. “If the clothing was his,” she continued, “it’s unlikely he was wealthy, or, say, management. More likely to have been a worker, or maybe someone visiting. The fabric is of no substance, and there are no maker’s labels.” She stood back, allowing Kali enough space to view what was left of the man in front of them.

“That’s all still assuming he was a farm laborer,” said Walter. “And we don’t even know if these were his clothes or if he was associated with the fruit fields. The empty land could have just been a convenient spot to stash a body.”

“I don’t know,” said Kali, still frowning. “The pineapple and the fridge are a couple of steps too far, don’t you think? The pineapple was unlikely to have been a casual afterthought, and as for the fridge, you would not only have to know there was one available, but have the means to move it. It seems unlikely a body would be brought here from somewhere else, hidden in the fridge, carried here in some kind of vehicle, and hoisted into a large hole. How many people would that take, anyway? Minimum of four, I’d guess.”

“Yes, of course there are a multitude of details to consider, but for the moment, shall we stick to the clothing?” asked Stitches. “If these clothes didn’t belong to the deceased, then whomever they did belong to left something in the pants pocket.”

Kali and Walter looked surprised.

Stitches smiled in satisfaction. “Front, right side,” she said, watching them closely. “And he or she must not have wanted to lose it, because the bottom corner of the pocket where I found it was sewn closed to protect it.”

They stared at the plastic evidence bag as she raised it. Inside was a small metal charm that suggested a stylized anchor. Kali took it and held it up to the light. She turned it over several times, then handed it to Walter.

“Sewn shut?” repeated Kali, intrigued.

“Yes,” said Stitches. “Those that were left were small, neat stitches. Very even. I might even say they were made by someone who was handy with a needle.”

Walter examined the charm closely. “Could you tell if there’s any kind of marking on it?”

“There’s nothing. No inscription, no initials, no manufacturing mark.”

Kali’s face took on a thoughtful expression. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of the metal. Although the suggestion of an anchor was clear, the bottom piece was straight, whereas a typical anchor would generally be curved upward on its two points. “A lot of people, including fishermen, carry talismans,” she said, unconsciously reaching up to slip one finger beneath the neckline of her shirt to finger the leather cord around her neck, from which dangled a collection of small talismans of her own. “Fishing charms. Some of them even keep the charms fastened to their nets to bring good luck.”

Walter nodded. “Not uncommon, especially with the older generation. I’ve seen some beautiful jade and stone examples. But what’s a fisherman doing in a pineapple field?”

“I don’t know,” said Kali. “He could have been a visitor or friend, or someone who had multiple jobs.”

They considered the host of implications and possibilities in silence. Finally, Kali spoke. “Any clue on ethnicity?”

“Ah,” said Stitches. “That may take some time to determine. The shape and capacity of the cranial cavity is usually one of the places we start with skeletal remains. What we do have right now is height. The femur, being mature and fully intact, indicates an adult with a height between five feet seven and five feet ten. There’s also evidence that the right arm was broken at some point.”

Walter sighed as he handed the anchor back to Kali. “That’s something, I guess. I’ve got Officer Hara going through the records on missing persons. Do we at least have some idea how long this gentleman was left in the field? It would help if we had a ballpark date to narrow the search.”

“Not yet,” said Stitches. “Determining that will also be a challenge.”

“I’d guess that someone would have to have known that that part of the field was