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“But I know I’m not answering your question. How did she sit still for it is what you want to know. There are no signs of struggle—no skin under her fingernails, ligature marks on her wrists, or bruising to show she put up a fight.” His fingers rested lightly on Lily’s pale skin. “She was a beautiful woman for a foreigner.”
“Beauty doesn’t matter when you’re dead, Pathologist.”
Fong chuckled. “No one is colder than you.”
David moved to Lily’s desk, which had already been dusted for fingerprints. He stood with his back against the wall in the same way Huadong’s widow had earlier.
“Any evidence of sexual assault?”
“None.”
“What was the weapon?”
Fong scratched his head. “Not a saw because there’s nothing on the bones or the surrounding tissue to suggest serration, and a knife wouldn’t have made it through the bones. I think the amputation was done in one motion.”
“What else?”
“As you know, she was killed somewhere else and brought here. The blood that coated her body looked like a smooth layer, but on closer inspection I discovered that more had been applied once she was placed on the bed. This suggests that someone came here with a container filled with her blood.”
“You’re sure it was hers?”
“Why go looking for other blood when hers was available?” Fong asked. “I wish it was applied by hand, but it was
n’t. The blood was blotted on. Maybe a sponge. Anyway, I picked up particulate matter on her skin—man-made, natural, I’m not sure yet. I also found slight abrasions and traces of what looks like the same material in her mouth. I’ll analyze it later.”
Lily had kept her room very neat, David thought as he listened to Fong and Hulan. Lily had a Filofax, some loose papers, and a couple of notebooks in a neat stack. A Mont Blanc pen rested just so to the right.
“Although the room looks clean, it isn’t,” Fong continued. “I found drops of blood from the door to here and traces in the bathroom, where someone washed his or her or their hands. I also picked up a few drops in the hallway going to the left. Nothing in the alleyways. A bit of blood in the drain, a couple of drops in the hall, and nothing else. The killers were clean.”
“Killers?”
“Although she was drained,” Fong explained, “she still would have leaked. How do you prevent her feet from leaking unless you keep them above her head? How does one person carry that much dead weight and keep those feet up? And who carries the bucket of extra blood? You are looking for three conspirators.”
“What about fingerprints?”
“We’ve picked up some in the room, but the body had the first priority. I’d like to move her somewhere. Do they have a walk-in refrigerator here?”
“It’s a guesthouse, not the Sheraton Great Wall,” Hulan observed dryly.
“Very well, some ice will do.”
“Fingerprints?” Hulan repeated.
“I did the desk. I thought you might want the papers.”
“Can you gather those up for me?” Hulan asked, and David was momentarily surprised that she was addressing him.
As David put the papers in the side pocket of his bag and zipped it closed, Fong went on. “You haven’t asked me about the most important clue. Attorney Stark,” he called out, “you will like this.” He motioned David to Lily’s side. “Look at the mark on her forehead.”
“We noticed it earlier,” David admitted.
“But it was covered in blood and not so clean as now.” Again Fong’s finger touched Lily, this time ever so softly against the mark on her forehead. “It’s a burn. What do you call it in English? It’s something your cowboys do.”
“A brand.”
“Yes, a brand! She was branded!” Fong beamed, pleased by the new word. “Now look closely. Look! It’s a symbol. You see it? Three lines like….” Fong’s hands rippled through the air.
“Like waves,” David said.
